


Parental Approval

by JoMouse



Series: Tumblr Prompts [37]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Gun Violence (well there is a gun), Haunted Houses, M/M, Paranormal Investigators, Past Character Death, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Sterek Week 2019, sterekmystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoMouse/pseuds/JoMouse
Summary: Stiles and Scott rent a room from Derek in the house he is renovating. Strange things start happening from the moment they set foot in the house. The house appears to be haunted, the question is by who and why?





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [novemberhush](https://archiveofourown.org/users/novemberhush/gifts).

> Greetings and Salutations!
> 
> It's Sterek Week 2019 and I'm participating and will hopefully still have all my hair by the end of the week.
> 
> This story was originally started to fill this prompt from [novemberhush](http://novemberhush.tumblr.com) over on tumblr: Hey! For the first sentence prompts, could I please request either 18) “In my defense, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time.” or 26) “No, the house is definitely not haunted, why do you ask?”? Whichever appeals to you more. Absolutely no rush. For Sterek, if possible, please. Thank you!😊
> 
> (The prompts come from [this post](http://josjournal.tumblr.com/post/146131648737/first-sentence-writing-prompts).)
> 
> I had what is the first chapter written and was going to post it months ago, but something felt off to me so I stored it away in my WIPs folder. When the Sterek Week 2019 themes were announced, I realized that it fell rigth into the "mystery" category and started working again. All of a sudden, the story kept growing and growing and growing until it became this 34K monster that I finished last night.
> 
> Humongous thanks to [Marie](http://quietzap.tumblr.com) for being an amazing and speedy beta who got this all done in just a couple of days. If there are any errors, they are all on my head. Another huge thanks to my dear friend, Jenn, who always has encouraging words when I need them the most.
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoy this story. Please let me know!
> 
> xx-Joey
> 
> Don't know 'em. Don't own 'em. Don't show 'em.
> 
> I do not give permission for this work or any of my works to be posted in full or part on any other websites (ie Good Reads). Saying that, I don't mind you sharing links on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jolynnmg) and/or [tumblr](http://josjournal.tumblr.com) and would love if you let me know if you do!!!

“No, the house is definitely not haunted, why do you ask?” the imposing dark-skinned man asked from the top of the creaking, mostly collapsed stairs, mouth twisted into a sarcastic grin. A heartbeat later, another flash of lightning lit up the sky throwing his face into an eerie shadow.

“No reason,” Stiles hurried to respond, exchanging a look with his best friend and soon-to-be housemate who was pale as he looked back. “No reason at all.”

The man shook his head, looking amused by their poorly hidden terror before he turned to unlock the front door. “Are you students?” he asked as he led them in, trying a light switch just inside the door which resulted in no change in the darkness. He let out a low curse before knocking a fist against the wall above the switch, shoulders dropping momentarily when there was no change. 

“Yeah, we didn’t want to live on campus anymore and this place fit our budget without needing to find more people to live with,” Stiles explained, tugging his keys out of his pockets and turning on the flashlight attached, shrieking when it revealed another man standing in the dark, arms crossed over his chest.

“Blew a fuse,” the newcomer explained, looking at the man who had let them in before turning to Stiles. “You must be the new tenants. I’m Derek Hale, I spoke to one of you on the phone.” He held a hand out that Stiles hurried to shake, tripping over his own two feet in a move that didn’t surprise anyone who knew him, so Scott. 

He would’ve face planted on the floor if Derek hadn’t grabbed him by the upper arms. He dropped his keys just as the lights flared back on and he got a good look at his new landlord. “Damn, dude,” he muttered, taking in Derek’s eyes, a hypnotic swirling mix of colors. 

Derek chuckled and Stiles reared back out of his grasp, bumping into Scott and falling to the ground on his butt. “Fuck,” he muttered, bringing his hands to his face as he allowed himself to collapse onto his back on the floor. “This is all a dream, all a dream,” he repeated to himself, ignoring the bellowing laughter around him.

“Guess it wasn’t a fuse,” Derek commented, stepping over Stiles, ignoring him as he introduced himself and Boyd, one of his good friends and contractors, to Scott. “There’s only one bedroom ready right now, but I made sure it had two beds.”

“That’s fine,” Scott said, stepping over Stiles as well and heading towards the stairs. “Upstairs?”

“To the right, first door. The bathroom is to the left. There are three other bedrooms up there and one more bath, but none of those is habitable quite yet,” Derek explained. 

“Cool.” Scott ran up the stairs and Boyd excused himself to double-check the fuses, muttering something about the timing of the lights coming back on.

Stiles listened to the activity around him, dropping his hands when the foyer grew quiet. He opened his eyes and yelped to find Derek knelt next to him, leaning in bringing their faces only about a foot apart. “Alright?” Derek asked, lips twisting into a smirk.

“Yeah, sure, laugh it up. Might as well learn what a spaz I am,” Stiles said, pushing himself up and leaning back on his hands, surprised when Derek mirrored the position across from him.

“Do I have to worry about the house? I mean, I know it’s in rough shape, but you’re not going to destroy it, right?” His face was serious, but something in his eyes gave away the teasing intention of his words.

“Not consciously,” Stiles responded with a shrug. “Can’t promise what I do in my sleep.”

Derek’s brow furrowed in concern. “Do you sleepwalk?”

“Not that I know of, it was just a joke.” He opened his mouth to continue speaking when the look on Derek’s face didn’t change. “Wow, lighten up, sourpuss.” Derek’s eyes narrowed, thick eyebrows drawn together, lip curled up in an almost snarl. “Correction, Sourwolf.”

Derek opened his mouth, but Scott came tumbling down the stairs like an overenthusiastic puppy, shouting out to Stiles, “The room is awesome! If you did that with just one, I can’t imagine what the rest of the house is going to look like!” He skidded to a stop, the tension in the room affecting his smile. “Are you sure you want to rent to us?”

Derek nodded. “It’ll be good to have someone living here to keep kids away. The house was a big party spot before I started working on it and I don’t think the message has quite gotten out yet, but as soon as it starts looking lived in, people will steer clear.”

“Especially if they think it’s haunted,” Boyd said, coming back into the room cleaning his hands off on a rag, his eyes on Stiles, lips twisted into a tiny smirk. “Not sure what happened with the lights, but the fuses are fine.”

“Doo doo doo doo,” Stiles sang  _ The Twilight Zone _ theme as Derek pulled him to his feet, brushing off some of the dust on Stiles’ shirt, both of them flushing as Stiles jerked backwards, bumping into Scott who tripped and landed on his butt on the ground. “Oops.”

“Well, we’ll let you get settled,” Derek said. “The kitchen and living room are through there, both are usable, although they both need paint and other cosmetic things done.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything we can help with?” Stiles asked, walking next to Derek to the door as Scott disappeared through the archway toward the kitchen with the fully stocked cooler they’d brought with them courtesy of Scott’s mom. “You’re pretty much charging us nothing to stay here.”

“Worry about your schoolwork and whatever jobs you get,” Derek told him, a genuine smile crossing his face revealing two slightly protruding front teeth. “My parents valued education and helping those in need, especially those who need help getting that education.” 

“So, you’re doing this, like, a family tradition?” Stiles asked. “I bet they’re proud of you.”

Sadness crossed Derek's face for a moment, his voice melancholic as he whispered, “Wherever they are, I hope they are.”

Stiles’ throat tightened, the familiarity of the tone and expression hitting his chest where all his mother’s memories usually did. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out and laying a hand on Derek’s shoulder. Derek narrowed his eyes at the hand and then looked back up at Stiles, glare evident. “And I’m removing my hand now.”

“Goodnight, Stiles,” he said, his tone only slightly warmer. “Give me a call if there are any problems.”

Derek was down the steps and around the side of the house towards the driveway before Stiles could respond.

* * *

The first couple weeks in the house were filled with tentative movements as Stiles and Scott got used to living in half the space that surrounded them while moving around Derek and Boyd and whoever else was coming and going. Thankfully, the loud work didn’t start until around ten o’clock so Stiles could sleep in and wrapped up by six o’clock so Scott could pass out early. After the first week, Scott started making a second pot of coffee and putting it in a thermos for the workers. After the second week, Derek started bringing breakfast food for the crew that they shared with Scott and Stiles.

Despite the shared food and beverages, Stiles didn’t actually see Derek and Boyd very often. He’d hear a noise somewhere in the house or there would be coffee mugs in the sink; sometimes the power would flash out followed by cursing and the hurried restoration of power. Classes started and Stiles found himself staying on campus later and later trying to stay caught up with his course load, spending inordinate amounts of time in the library.

One Friday night, just after midnight when he’d been nearly physically ejected from the library by a fed-up upperclassman who just wanted to lock up and go home, Stiles pulled up in front of the house taking note of the unusually empty driveway. He hesitated to enter, it would be the first time he’d be alone at night in the house and as much as he liked it, he still hadn’t gotten past his first impression of it being haunted. 

Laughing at himself, he texted Scott quickly to let him know he was home and inquire where his friend had gotten off to, but since it was a Friday night, he wasn’t sure he really wanted details. He unlocked the door and let himself into the house, reaching for the light switch next to the door and flipping it, only to be met with more darkness. “Perfect,” he muttered as he dropped his backpack and turned on the flashlight on his keys.

He swept the foyer and debated searching for the fuse box Derek had mentioned the day he’d moved in, but with his luck, he’d end up falling down the basement steps and knocking himself out and Scott would find his dead body weeks later. Shaking his head roughly, he attempted to literally shake the creepy image from his brain; he was already scared enough, he didn’t need his overactive imagination making things worse.

Moving slowly, he went into the kitchen. He grabbed a glass out of the cupboard and used the sink to fill it, not wanting to open the fridge while there was no power. He downed it despite the nasty tepidness. He was hungry and grabbed a bag of Doritos to take up to his room. 

He made it to the stairs, stepping on the first one when he heard a crash from upstairs. Freezing, his breath catching in his throat, every synapse in his brain was screaming for him to escape but his body was never very good at listening to his head. He hurried up the stairs towards the sound, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his sheriff father’s sounded off inside his head denouncing his intelligence.

Another crash, followed by a loud curse sounded from one of the unfinished bedrooms. The room was next to the bathroom and the door was open, shadows moving within. Stiles was expecting a lightning flash like in every creepy movie ever made but instead, the lights flared back on and Stiles burst out laughing.

Derek was in the room, one foot in an overturned blue paint can and blue paint running out of a paint pan over his head and into his beard. A ladder laid on the floor and three of the four walls were painted in the same shade that was quickly turning Derek into a pale Smurf. “What the...what?” Stiles asked as Derek stared back at him, unmoving. “It’s, like, one in the morning and you’re painting?”

“In my defence, it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time,” Derek muttered, reaching up to remove the paint pan and tossing it onto the drop cloth lining the floor. “I couldn’t sleep and was driving to the diner when I noticed no one was home, so I thought I’d get some work done. Then the power went out and I tried to get to my phone and…” He trailed off and waved his arms to indicate the entire room.

“Disaster struck. Dude, usually it’s me who ends up in messes like this,” Stiles said, laughing but then turning thoughtful. “Are you alright?”

Derek nodded as he wiggled his foot out of the paint can, making a face at the paint that covered his shoe. “Yeah, nothing hurt but my pride.”

“Well, that’s good, but not what I meant. You said you couldn’t sleep,” Stiles said, smiling softly when Derek looked up at him in surprise. “I have insomnia something fierce; wondered if we had something in common.”

Derek turned away, focusing on cleaning up as best he could and Stiles decided to leave him to it. “Well, I’m going to grab my stuff and head to bed where I’ll probably be up for another five hours browsing the web. You should take a shower, I can get you some clothes to borrow. I might have some shoes that will fit.”

Derek was staring at his feet as he focused on taking off his shoes. Stiles shrugged and started to leave the room, stopping when Derek finally spoke. “I have nightmares,” he whispered. “My parents died in a fire and it haunts me.”

“Dude, that sucks and I know saying I’m sorry is just words and don’t mean anything, but I am sorry,” Stiles told him, stepping carefully.

“You sound like you know what it’s like,” Derek said, eyeing him warily as he moved closer.

“I heard it all the time when my mom died, but it didn’t bring her back.” His voice was quiet, it still hurt when he thought about that time of his life. He managed to move until he was standing right in front of Derek. “So, I’m going to hug you now and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Derek looked horrified, but his lips were curled into a bit of a smile and Stiles thought he saw a hidden thread of longing in his eyes. “You’ll get covered in paint.”

“You need a hug and clothing can be washed, so I don’t really care,” Stiles responded before wrapping his arms around Derek and tugging him close, smiling when Derek’s arms went around his waist and he buried his face into Stiles’ neck.

“Thank you,” Derek muttered, his grip tightening and Stiles held on knowing he wouldn’t be the first one to let go.


	2. Chapter Two

The weeks following the Great Smurf Debacle continued much as the ones before, except that Stiles felt much more relaxed around Derek when he did see him. They would exchange greetings and light touches and the occasional joke. The bedroom that Derek had been working on was completed and Stiles moved into it, claiming ownership after the moment he’d shared with Derek there.

Early in November, Scott went on a camping trip with the girl he’d started dating shortly after school started, leaving on Thursday night and planning to return sometime the following Thursday, all of his classes having lenient attendance policies. It was the longest he and Stiles had been separated since they were kids. Stiles knew he’d be fine without Scott, their schedules were so different that even living together he sometimes didn’t see him, other than in passing, for days at a time, but he wasn’t looking forward to all of that time alone in the house.

Despite Boyd’s constant reassurance that the place wasn’t haunted, Stiles held to his convictions. The lights still went out at random times without any tangible cause and he’d started noticing things showing up in places they hadn’t been before. After three days of finding his car keys in random places, he was convinced either the house was haunted or he was showing symptoms of his mother’s frontotemporal dementia; he wasn’t sure which explanation scared him more.

He’d just waved Scott off and closed the door when he heard the door off the kitchen open and shut. Curious, he went into the kitchen to see which of the workers had come in since they more often than not came in that way but the room was empty. Poking his head around the corner into the dining room, he found it empty as well. Glancing at the basement door as he passed back through the kitchen, he saw it was ajar. “Big nope,” he said hurrying past and up the stairs to his room.

Several hours and half a season of “Buzzfeed Unsolved” later, Stiles’ stomach grumbled. Pulling out his earbuds, he climbed off his bed. The moment he stepped out of his doorway, the power went out. “Perfect.”

Reaching into the pocket of his pajama pants, he pulled out his phone. The flashlight illuminated a small path down the stairs, stepping carefully, he shot off a text to Derek about the lights. He’d just stepped into the kitchen when the back door blew open, startling a squeak out of him and sending him sprawling to the floor where he scooted back to cower in the corner by the refrigerator.

Shaking, he texted Derek again.  _ Please come over. _ He’d barely let out a breath and Derek’s  _ On my way _ came through. 

Stiles had no idea how much time passed before Derek’s figure filled the open back doorway. “What’s going on?” he asked, hurrying to Stiles, dropping to his knees and sliding the last few inches to his side. “Are you hurt?”

Stiles shook his head as the lights came back on. “What the ever-loving fuck!?” he snapped, eyes darting to the light over the sink. He shifted his gaze back to Derek when the man used both hands to cup his cheeks. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Derek responded, chuckling. “What happened?” Stiles explained quickly. “It just flew open on its own? Didn’t you lock it?”

“I never check it because I never use it. You and your workers are the only ones who do,” he said, exasperated.

“So it might not have been closed all the way and a strong gust of wind blew it open,” Derek suggested.

“Maybe, but I still say the house is haunted!” Stiles exclaimed, trying to get to his feet and failing until Derek stood and pulled him up, wrapping one arm around his waist to hold him steady. “It has to be haunted,” he whispered, clenching his hands to stop the trembling.

“Let’s get you upstairs and into bed,” Derek told him, pinching his side when Stiles gave a half-hearted waggle of his brows. “Not like that!”

Stiles managed a small chuckle as he tucked his hands under his arms to keep them steady, leaning on Derek and allowing him to do the work to get him upstairs and into his room. It only took a few minutes before Stiles was back in bed with the covers pulled up over him. Derek sat on the side of his bed, running a hand through his hair. “Are you going to be alright?”

Stiles shrugged, wanting to ask Derek to stay so he wouldn’t be alone in the house, but unsure if their relationship, despite the moment they’d shared, had extended to sleepovers. He considered them friends but didn’t know if Derek did or if he was still the klutzy tenant renting his house.

He opened his mouth to say goodnight to Derek when Derek spoke instead. “Do you want me to stay until Scott comes home?”

“If you’re not busy for the next three days,” came out of Stiles’ mouth before he could snap his filter into place. He slapped his hand over his mouth and pulled the blanket over his head to hide his burning face from Derek. “Just go home,” he mumbled into his hand, snapping his eyes shut when Derek pulled the sheet back from his face.

“Got clothes for me to sleep in tonight?” Derek asked when Stiles finally opened his eyes, curious at Derek’s ongoing silence. “I’ve got a sleeping bag in my car and I can sleep on the couch or even Scott’s bed.”

Stiles lowered his hand and chewed his lower lip. “Would you stay in here?” he whispered, still surprised by Derek’s unspoken offer. “I mean if it’s not too much-”

Derek covered Stiles’ mouth with his own hand. “I’ve got no plans other than working on the house, so staying here isn’t a problem. Let me just go get my sleeping bag. You’ll be alright until I get back?”

Stiles nodded, but as soon as Derek was out of the room, the lamp on the nightstand flickered and he flew out of bed and out of the room, crashing into Derek on the stairs, thankful for the man’s inborn grace that saved them from tumbling to the ground floor. “Yeah, I could use some company,” Derek muttered, letting Stiles grip the back of his shirt in both hands until they were at the bottom of the stairs. “Hop on,” Derek said, gesturing to his back and Stiles shook his head. “Come on, it’ll be faster and probably safer this way. Besides, you’re not wearing shoes and the ground is still wet from the rain last night.”

With a sigh, Stiles climbed onto Derek’s back, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and fighting the urge to bury his face into the back of his neck as Derek carried him through the kitchen and out the back door. When they reached Derek’s Camaro, he set Stiles down on the hood before walking around the back of the car, talking about random things in a very uncharacteristic way, probably some vain attempt to keep Stiles distracted.

It only took a few minutes for Derek to grab out a sleeping bag and a backpack. “Looks like I had clothes in my trunk from the last time I went to visit my sister, so I don’t need to borrow yours.” He looked down at the pack and handed it to Stiles. “Put it on.”

Stiles did before climbing on Derek’s back again, allowing him to carry him into the house and set him at the foot of the stairs. “Thanks,” Stiles said, as they climbed the stairs. “I’m sure you never expected to add babysitting to your landlord duties.”

Derek chuckled. “We’re all scared of something.” He tossed the sleeping bag on the rug near the bed when they entered the room before turning to face him. “Do you really think the house is haunted?”

“If it’s not haunted, I’m dying,” Stiles muttered, climbing back into his bed before grabbing one of the pillows and throwing it at Derek.

Derek grabbed the pillow out of the air and punched it a few times before setting it on the ground at the head of his sleeping bag. He pulled his shirt over his head and Stiles turned away. "Why do you think you're dying?" Derek asked as he tossed his shirt to the ground and opened the backpack to pull out a pair of sweatpants. "I'm going to step into the bathroom to change. I'll be right back."

Stiles chewed his lip as Derek disappeared, counting his fingers while he tried to come up with an answer to Derek's question. He knew the answer, but he wasn't sure how to explain it without giving away too much. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to tell Derek about his mother; he didn't talk about her very often, even Scott didn't know everything about her death and illness. He remembered Derek telling him about his nightmares, about his parents' death in a fire, the openness on his face despite the guarded nature of the topic.

"I'm back. You okay?" Derek asked when he returned.

Stiles nodded and patted the bed next to him, watching as Derek hesitated before taking a seat on the edge and holding out a tentative hand, smiling when Stiles took it and squeezed. He didn't know why they were so careful around each other when they'd already shared so much. "My mother died when I was in elementary school," he whispered.

Derek's hand tightened around his while his other reached out to lay on Stiles' thigh as Derek moved to sit up against the headboard next to Stiles, their joined hands laying across their bodies. "I'm sorry," he whispered, although the words weren't news and they were both acutely aware of how little words affected the situation.

"She started acting weird a few years before she died. Misplacing things and swearing up and down that one of us had moved it. My dad and her would fight about everything from her car keys ending up in the freezer to the time she'd walked home from dropping me off at school and then reported the car stolen when she'd gone to pick me up again because it wasn't in the driveway."

"What was it? If you don't mind me asking," Derek said, voice soft.

"Frontotemporal dementia. Big fancy words for her brain dying," he replied, falling into silence as he twisted Derek's fingers with his own.

"So, if the house isn't haunted..."

"Then I'm showing signs," Stiles choked out. "My keys keep going missing. A few days ago I couldn't find my calculus book before I left for class. When I got back, it was sitting on the bottom step waiting for me to walk through the door."

Derek was quiet for a long time and Stiles began to panic. He'd already been on the verge of an attack earlier, it was the last thing he needed, but he could feel his chest tightening and the sparks of light in the corners of his eyes. He opened his mouth, desperate for oxygen but only managed a loud screeching, fruitless inhale.

Warmth bloomed against his chest and Derek’s voice came to him from far away. “Breathe with me, Stiles. In...2, 3, 4. Out...2, 3, 4…” Repeating several times until the world righted and Stiles was left with the tingling sensation of a panic attack hangover. “There you are,” Derek whispered. 

“I can’t do this to my father,” Stiles whispered.

“You don’t have to. You’re not dying,” Derek assured. “The house is haunted.”

"That's quite a switch in opinion," Stiles joked. "Maybe you've become a part of my dementia. You're not really here and I've just imagined you up to keep me company in my time of need."

Derek chuckled. "Of all the people in the world to dream up for company, you'd choose me?" He shook his head. "Maybe you are crazy." Stiles smacked him in the center of the chest, shaking out his hand with a whispered oath afterwards. "Kidding." He sighed before standing off the bed. "Come with me." 

Derek held out his hand; Stiles’ hovered between them for a moment before something in Derek's luminescent eyes put him at ease enough to lay his in Derek’s. Derek pulled him out into the hallway, moving towards the other side of the stairs where the rooms weren't remodeled yet. Stopping outside one of the rooms that had painters tape across the doorway, he hesitated before reaching up to pull it down. Looking into Stiles' eyes for a moment, Derek turned the knob and pushed open the door, musty, cold air hitting them both in the face.

Stiles' nose twitched at the smell, sneezing twice after a moment which gained a small twitch of the lips from Derek. Turning to look away from Derek into the room, he gasped. The walls and floor of the room that were intact were scorched. A large hole in the middle of the room was surrounded by jagged floorboards and leaning forward, Stiles could see down into a room he hadn't seen before; he suspected it was the closed-off library that also had a taped-off door. 

"What..." Stiles started to ask, stopping when his brain finally clicked into gear. "This is  _ your _ house." Derek nodded. "Your parents died here. In  _ this _ room!" Stiles stepped backwards, arms pinwheeling and he would've fallen if Derek hadn't grabbed him by the arm.

Shutting the door, he pulled Stiles back to his room never looking back, but Stiles kept glancing at the door behind them, waiting for something to happen, anything but it remained closed. Derek shoved him a little less than gently into his room and then pulled the door closed behind him. "If this house is haunted and I refuse to believe you are dying, so it must be, then it must be my parents, but I don't know why." His voice was pained and pushed through gritted teeth, eyes glittering as they searched Stiles' for something. 

"We should get an Ouija board!" Stiles suggested, grabbing his phone to check Amazon, yelping when Derek grabbed it out of his hand and tossed it onto the bed.

"Are you crazy? Have you never seen a movie?" Derek asked, surprising Stiles with his vehemence.

"Yes and they are all  _ fiction, _ " Stiles told him, laughing. "Fine, if you want to be a chicken, we'll have to figure something else out. We can try to find a psychic or one of those ghost hunter shows." He looked thoughtful. "I wonder if Ryan and Shane would be willing to come out."

"Ryan and who?" Derek asked, reaching for Stiles' arm again to stop him from the pacing he'd started up when Derek had taken his phone."You've watched movies about Ouija boards but don't know who Ryan and Shane are?" Stiles was incredulous. "Well, since we won't be getting any more sleep tonight, I know what we are doing." He tugged Derek back over to the bed and in next to him. He grabbed his laptop from the end of his bed where he'd put it before heading downstairs and into his lap. After a couple clicks he was back on episode one and started the video before turning his attention back to Derek. "Now, this first video doesn't have Shane, but it's short so deal with it."

"What is this?" Derek asked after a minute, eyes narrowing. "What do  _ Men in Black _ have to do with the house?"

"Shush!" Stiles said, laughing. "We'll get to ghosts and demons in a couple of episodes."

"Demons?"

"Shush," Stiles repeated, leaning against the headboard with his head on Derek's shoulder, smiling when he felt him relax underneath his cheek, and slight pressure on the top of his head when Derek leaned back into him.

Stiles woke up the next morning curled up against something warm. Lifting his head, he smiled down at Derek, sleeping soundly, face relaxed and mouth slightly agape. He remembered the night before and frowned as he looked around for his laptop, spotting it sitting on the nightstand; Derek must have moved it after Stiles had fallen asleep, but he'd still stayed in the bed with him. The call of nature had Stiles shifting, Derek's eyes flew open as he looked around, panicked for a moment before his gaze landed on Stiles and his entire being relaxing into the mattress.

"Morning," he mumbled.

"Morning," Stiles returned, smiling softly. "Gotta pee."

Derek rolled off the bed, landing on his feet in a manner that Stiles would be jealous of, if he wasn't in such a hurry to get to the bathroom; he didn't even have the energy to be embarrassed when he fell off the edge of the bed and nearly face planted, saved once again by Derek's amazing reflexes.

"Thanks," he called, heading into the bathroom as Derek got out of the bed and stretched. Once he was done in the bathroom, he came out to find Derek looking around, brows pulled together, a frown on his face. "What's wrong?" 

"We did bring my sleeping bag in last night, right?" Derek said, pointing to the rug on the floor where he'd laid his bag out the night before, the space empty except for the rug.

"Fuck me," Stiles muttered, walking over to the nightstand where he'd left his phone the night before, the nightstand empty. "This is just fantastic." He looked over at Derek, an idea coming to him. "Call my phone."

"What?" Derek asked, looking up from the floor the first time. "You're right there, why would I call you?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I didn't tell you to call me, I told you to call my  _ phone _ . My phone that isn't here."

Stiles watched Derek pull his phone out, dialing, the sound of music playing distantly. Looking at each other, they followed the noise down the stairs to the main floor, the sound growing closer but still too far away to find when it stopped and Stiles' voicemail picked up. Dialing again, they followed the sound into the kitchen, stopping when they identified the sound coming from behind the basement stairs. 

"No way," Stiles said, backing away from the door. "I'll just get a new phone."

"It's just a basement," Derek said. "I've been down there a million times." 

"And yet, you haven't made a move towards the door," Stiles pointed out, backing away and grabbing his keys off the counter by the refrigerator. "I say we get dressed and go grab a bite to eat."

Derek looked between Stiles and the door before nodding and both of them hurried back upstairs to get changed. As they ran back down the stairs, they stopped to stare at Stiles' phone lying on the floor in the middle of the foyer like it'd been dropped. Not saying anything, Stiles scooped it up and they raced out the door, neither one of them saying another word. They took Derek's car since it was parked behind Stiles' jeep, driving to the other side of campus and the diner there. 

"Love this place," Stiles said with a sigh, dropping into the booth and smiling as Derek mirrored him on the other side.

"Morning, Derek!" the waitress, Erica, said as she dropped menus on the table.

"Come here often?" Stiles teased, handing the menu right back to her, knowing what he wanted.

"Yes," Derek responded. "And Erica is Boyd's girlfriend."

The blonde looked between Derek and Stiles, a nearly feral grin spreading across her face. "Is this Stiles?" she squealed, dropping into the booth on Stiles' side, forcing him to slide closer to the wall as she gripped his face in both of her hands. "Oh, he  _ is  _ cute. Can we keep him?"

Stiles reached up, gently taking Erica by the wrists and removing her hands from his face. " _ He _ is not something to be kept. Unless you're a very rich man looking for a sugar baby."

"Does that mean you call Derek 'daddy'?" she teased, laughing when Derek barked an objection and Stiles shoved her off the bench and onto the floor.

Eventually, she got herself to her feet, smiling and pulling an order pad out of her apron pocket. "Derek's having an egg white meat lover's omelet, a glass of orange juice and a glass of water with lemon. What can I get you?"

"A cup of black coffee, a large cola, two eggs scrambled with a double side of bacon, white toast and hash browns, extra crispy."

"The bacon or the hash browns?" Erica asked.

"Yes," Stiles told her, grinning at Derek who had buried his face in his hands when Erica said 'daddy' and hadn't looked back up again. "Do it right and I might let you keep me," he teased.

Erica grinned and nodded, leaving the table and promising to return with their drinks in a moment. "I would apologize for her, but she'll just do it again," Derek said through his hands when she was gone.

"If I had a dime for every time I've had to apologize for Scott..." He trailed off, narrowing his eyes. "I'd owe someone a dime."

"You'd probably be richer if you had a dime for every time he had to apologize for you," Derek suggested, finally dropping his hands, his cheeks and the tips of his ears still a bit pink. 

"You don't know me well enough to say that!" Stiles declared in mock irritation.

"Well, we've shared a bed, so I-"

A tray of beverages dropped to the table, contents splashing over the rims cut him off. "You slept together!?" Erica squealed, drawing the attention of a majority of the diner. 

"Yes," Stiles said, drawing his feet up when Derek kicked at him under the table. "Technically, we did." Derek growled low and Stiles barked out a laugh while Erica continued to stare at the two of them like they'd discovered Christmas. "The ghosts were having a bit too much fun with me last night and Derek came to protect me."

Erica's eyes widened even more and she dropped down next to Stiles. "Derek told me that you think the house is haunted. Tell me everything."

"Erica," Derek's voice held a warning tone, but she and Stiles both ignored him.

"The lights keep going out but every time Derek or Boyd check the fuse box, there's nothing wrong with it. Stuff goes missing and reappears in crazy places. I swear I hear footsteps-"

"What?" Derek interrupted. "You didn't mention that."

Stiles shrugged. "I try not to think about it, plus I was too distracted."

Derek's expression softened and he reached over to cover Stiles' hand on the table, squeezing gently. He flipped Erica off with his other hand when she started cooing. "I can't wait to tell Boyd you slept together," she said when the cook hollered for her through the window into the kitchen.

Derek opened his mouth to argue, but Stiles laughed and told him not to bother. The silence stretched between them, only slightly awkward. Stiles was about to launch into a ramble about the history of diners when Derek took a sip of his water and finally spoke. "How're your classes going?" 

Stiles groaned before picking up his own water and attempting to bring the straw to his mouth. He failed and Derek smirked. Narrowing his eyes, Stiles finally managed to catch the straw and sipped, hollowing his cheeks and laughing when there was a twitch by Derek's right eye. He filed that away for further investigation when they didn't have Derek's friend watching every move they made from behind the counter.

"They're alright. A lot more work than I expected and I'm thinking my dad was right when he told me I was taking too many classes." Shrugging, he leaned back when Erica returned to the table, setting their plates down.

"You know, you should contact ghost hunters or something," she said, looking between them both. "You ever heard of Buzzfeed Unsolved?"

"Am I the only person who had never heard of them?" Derek asked, glaring when Erica nodded and Stiles laughed. "We are not calling a camera crew to my family home. If someone is doing it on camera, there's too big a chance they're only in it for attention, not the research."

Stiles stopped with two slices of bacon a couple of inches from his mouth, eyes wide before dropping them back onto his plate. "Oh my god! That's it!" he shouted, arching his back and digging his phone out of his pocket.

"What's it?" Derek asked, stabbing at his omelette.

"Research!" Stiles said, distracted as his thumbs flew over the screen of his phone. "There's a parapsychology department at the university. I bet they have people who do this kind of stuff for research. You can help out students like you love to do and maybe we can figure out what's going on."

Derek tilted his head, chewing slowly. Swallowing, he nodded. "That's actually not a terrible idea."

"Hey, not all of my ideas are terrible," Stiles argued. "I'm not the one that decided to paint in the middle of the night and ended up Sloppy Smurf."

Derek chuckled but continued to eat while Stiles tried to eat with one hand and scrolling through the school's website with the other. He glanced up a couple of times to find Derek watching him and winked, laughing when Derek choked on the sip of orange juice he'd just taken. Once he'd found a page with information that might prove useful, he put his phone to the side and focused on his food.

"So, your dad thinks you're taking too many classes," Derek prompted.

"Yeah, but he doesn't get it. I want to get done with college a soon as possible and out into the real world and with a double major, I have to double the classes to get out at the same time as Scott."

"I double-majored as well," Derek said, understanding in his tone. "History and Classic Literature. What about you?"

"Definitely not History and Classic Literature," Stiles responded around an exaggerated yawn, laughing when Derek threw a piece of sausage at him. "Actually, I'm double majoring in Criminal Justice and Behavioral Psychology."

"You want to be a profiler," Derek guessed and Stiles beamed at him.

"Exactly. I'm already working on my application to Quantico." He launched into a rant about the application process that took them through to the end of breakfast.

They walked back out to Derek's car, climbing in. "Ready to go back to the house?"

Stiles looked up from his phone. "Actually, can we swing by campus? The Dean of parapsychology has office hours right now and he might be able to point us in the right direction."

The Dean of Parapsychology was a middle-aged dark-skinned, bald man with a tight smile and even tighter lips named Dr. Alan Deaton. He greeted them both with a handshake before offering the seats across from his desk. Instead of moving around to sit in his own chair, he perched on the edge of the desk in front of them. "How can I help you? I don't recognize either of your names from the department, although I do know you, Mr. Hale."

"Derek, please. I'm sorry to say I don't know who you are." Derek exchanged a confused look with Stiles who shrugged.

"I was acquaintances with your mother. She was a lovely woman with a strong interest in the paranormal."

"Your mom believed in ghosts?" Stiles shouted, biting into his lip when Deaton gave him a stern look. "It's got to be her!"

"What does?" the Dean asked.

"We believe there is a strong possibility that my family home is haunted," Derek explained. "Stiles thought you might know of someone who could come investigate. Maybe some students who need practical experience."

"You are your mother's son," Deaton said fondly, turning around on his desk and picking up a file.

Derek blinked rapidly and Stiles reached over and took his hand, remembering how he felt every time someone compared him to his mother and imagining that Derek was feeling the same way. They waited as Deaton flipped through the file before pulling out a sheet of paper and handing it over. It was a flyer for a group that called themselves the Paranormal Investigation Experts who held meetings on Monday nights in the Student Union.

"The two young men who run this group, James and Javadd, are graduate students in the department. The rest of the group is made up of a mix of parapsychology majors and others who have a genuine interest. James and Javadd have no patience for people who try to join for a laugh," Deaton explained. "I would contact them to start."

"Thank you, Dr. Deaton," Stiles said, rising to his feet. "Do you need this back?"

He shook his head. "Good luck to you both," he said, shaking their hands before escorting them to the door.

"It's only Friday," Derek pointed out as Stiles kept his eyes on the flyer, his feet turning towards the Student Union. "I don't think you want to sit in there until Monday."

Stiles laughed at himself, realizing he'd gotten focused on the next step without taking in the logistics of it. He was so eager to prove his sanity that he was overwhelmed by the concept of waiting in the house without Scott there and nothing much to do except homework that wouldn't keep him occupied the entire time. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, debating calling his father and heading home for the weekend, but knew he wouldn't be able to hide his stress and worry from his father and he wasn't ready to share those concerns in case they were completely unfounded.

"Penny for your thoughts," Derek said, those words and the strong grip on his arm pulling him back to the present and stopping him from stepping off the sidewalk into oncoming traffic.

"Trying to figure out how to keep myself physically and mentally occupied until Monday," Stiles admitted.

Derek's eyebrows rose and his lips twisted into a smirk that set Stiles' abdomen quivering. "I might have a few ideas." 

Stiles' eyes widened, his throat dry as he squeaked, "Oh really?"

"Really," Derek assured. "We have to do some shopping first." Grabbing Stiles' hand he pulled him back towards his car ignoring Stiles' probing questions.


	3. Chapter Three

Stiles stumbled up the stairs under the weight of the carryout bags while Derek moved seamlessly loaded down with two-by-fours over one shoulder and a reusable bag holding nails and other items they would need. The trip to Home Depot hadn't been exactly what Stiles had in mind when he'd told Derek that he needed to keep himself occupied. Watching Derek head up the stairs, blushing when he glanced back over his shoulder and caught him looking. He wondered if he imagined the extra swing to Derek's hips when he returned to climbing the stairs, but whether it was his imagination or not, he enjoyed it.

Heading into the kitchen while Derek went upstairs to drop the wood in his parents' old room. They were going to re-frame the room in preparation for drywall that was going to be delivered in the morning. When Stiles had mentioned the mammoth hole in the floor, Derek said they’d work around it today and that Boyd would be in on Sunday to do some demolition to the floorboards before a couple of hired hands came in on Monday to reinforce the support beams and framing while they hung the drywall.

Derek had been all business until they’d reached the paint chips; a haunted look overtook his eyes and he’d stopped contributing to the conversation. Stiles stopped talking as well, just stood next to him quietly holding him steady when he leaned into him. 

Stiles walked into the kitchen to set the bags down on the table, freezing just before he let go when he saw papers scattered all over the table. Shifting the bag to his hip, he looked down at the papers, recognizing police files from his years of snooping through his dad's office. Checking the back door, he saw the deadbolt turned to the locked position and he distinctly remembered unlocking the front door when they’d arrived home so the house had been locked up. "Derek," he called, voice shaky. He glanced over his shoulder when the basement door creaked. "Derek!" he screamed, losing his grip on the food.

Derek grabbed the bag just before it hit the ground with one hand and yanked Stiles to face him with the other. "What?" he asked, eyes searching Stiles from head to toe. "Are you hurt?"

Shaking his head, Stiles took a step to the right and gestured to the table. "Someone was in the house."

Derek shoved the bag of food at Stiles and pushed him out of the way, grabbing the first file folder closest to the edge of the table. "Where did you get these?"

"Dude," Stiles said, slapping at Derek's arm before moving toward the counter to set the food down. "I've been with you since last night. These weren't here when we left."

"These were in the basement!" Derek snapped.

"Then you know for sure I had nothing to do with it! I'm terrified of that thing," Stiles pointed out, trying to control his anger when he identified the name on the first page of the file. This was the police file for the fire that had killed Derek's parents; there had been an investigation, which meant someone thought it wasn't an accident. As he thought back to the night Derek had told him about their death, he'd never said what started the fire, just that they'd died in it. The bedroom was scorched but there hadn't been any evidence in the hallway, although Derek could've gotten that fixed already.

Stiles returned to Derek, wrapping his arms around him when the man's shoulders began to shake and the file fell back to the table. Every synapse in his brain was screaming at him to ask questions, but for once his emotional instinct kicked in and he kept to soothing sounds as he stood behind Derek, holding him to his own chest while his hands rubbed soothing circles over Derek's chest through his Henley. "Why would someone do this?" Derek asked, his voice a helpless whimper before he turned around in Stiles' arms and buried his face in his neck. 

"Who knew the files were down there?" Stiles asked, hoping it wasn't too much too soon and sighing with relief as a shudder went through Derek before he lifted his head and looked into Stiles' eyes searching for something. 

He must have found whatever it was he was looking for because he answered the question. "Just me. It's locked in a storage room down there." He looked toward the basement door. "Boyd knows about the room and that the stuff in there was my parents', but he doesn't know about any of this."

"Who else has a key?" Stiles was itching to look at the files but knew he had to let Derek lead this so he gave Derek one last squeeze before turning his attention on the food. 

"Just me and it was with us on my keys," Derek explained, gathering together the papers and shoving them back into the files, stopping when he'd picked up what looked like a photo.

When Stiles carried the food to the table, he saw Derek's eyes closed and lips pressed together tightly. "Der?" Stiles questioned and Derek handed over the photo without opening his eyes. It was a black and white photograph of the house, a middle-aged couple standing in front of it with three kids. Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth, fighting back a giggle when he identified a very young Derek, ears sticking out and bunny teeth even more prominent. 

Looking up, he locked eyes with Derek whose mouth was softening into a smile. "That bad, yeah?"

"You were adorable," Stiles assured, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening the Facebook app, suddenly glad he'd encouraged his father to create one and even helped him figure out how to post old photographs. It took a minute but he found a picture of himself with his parents before his mother got sick, they were dressed in matching shirts for a Beacon County Relay for Life event; something that they did every year when he was growing up.

Stiles's hair was a mess, sticking up with purple glitter in it to match the shirts. He had his face painted like a wolf while his mom was painted like a fox. He was missing two of his teeth, the vampire teeth, and had a scrape on his chin that the makeup lady had refused to cover. Turning his phone, he showed Derek who smiled before taking the phone and started swiping through pictures, laughing and holding it over his head when Stiles tried to grab it back. 

"Your dad loves you an awful lot," Derek observed as he handed the phone back, smiling. "Lots of pictures of you."

"We're all we have," Stiles explained. "I mean, we have Scott and his mom, but it's not the same."

"I get it," Derek told him, slipping the photo into the file and setting it to the side, pulling out a chair for Stiles so that they could sit down and eat. 

It was silent in the house except for quiet chewing and Stiles' feet squeaking against the flooring. He opened his mouth a couple of times before snapping it shut, not sure how to ask the questions that were swirling around inside his brain. His eyes slipped to the file folder a few times, his gaze so focused in silent, ridiculous hope to develop x-ray vision that he jumped when Derek spoke up.

"The fire investigator's official report said faulty wiring."

"That's a police file, not a fire investigator's," Stiles pointed out.

"The sheriff didn't believe him and kept looking into it for about a year before he retired," Derek explained. "He called occasionally to check up on me and my sisters, especially on holidays, until he passed away earlier this year." He looked thoughtful. "I think he was still investigating, but never said anything because Laura always cried when he talked about it, telling him to just accept the fact it was a terrible accident."

"What do you think?" Stiles asked, setting down his fork and pushing away his plate, food suddenly being the last thing on his mind.

Derek poked at his Carne Asada, chewing into his lower lip, brows pulling together in the center. "I think..." He trailed off and picked up a piece of steak and shoved it into his mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing loudly. "I think that someone killed them."

Stiles was very glad he'd stopped eating or he would have choked on his Burrito Ranchero at those words and the quiet conviction behind them. "Why...why would you think that?" Derek tilted his head to look at Stiles, studying his face in a way that was becoming familiar and Stiles waited him out even when the staring went on long enough that his toes began twitching in his shoes and the desire to move grew stronger.

"My mom worked for a non-profit organization that helped women and children get out of abusive homes. She'd been threatened more times than I can count by the men that were left behind." He poked at his food again. "My dad was a lawyer that helped prosecute some of those same men, so he was threatened as well."

"Did the sheriff look into those threats?" Stiles asked, looking at the file again and smiling when Derek reached over and plucked it off the side table and passed it over to him. He bit back a curious sound as he opened the file and began flipping through it. "There's not much here."

Derek slid his chair closer and looked at the file, flipping through the papers and frowning. "This isn't all of them. This is just the earliest one before he expanded his search. He'd only interviewed the people mom and dad worked with at this point, not any of the men they'd mentioned."

He flipped through a few more pages before pulling out what looked like a list of interviews with numbers next to them. "Do you have tapes?" Stiles asked. "If he kept track like my dad, these numbers should correspond to tapes and run times on the tapes. Three of the interviews have scribbled timestamps so those must have been important."

Derek shook his head. "The sheriff left us a lot of stuff when he died, but I haven't been able to go through all of it, but I think I would've remembered seeing-"

A loud crash coming from the basement cut off Derek's sentence and the two of them turned to look at the door leading downstairs before turning back to each other, mouths slack.


	4. Chapter Four

Derek stood slowly from his chair, holding his hands out towards Stiles in a quieting manner. He took a couple of steps toward the basement door and Stiles reached out and grabbed his arm, hissing out a warning. Derek opened his eyes wide and jerked his head towards the door and Stiles shook his head. Derek jerked his head again, pulling his arm out of Stiles' grasp. 

"Dammit, Derek," Stiles hissed, stepping back as Derek slapped a hand over his mouth and narrowed his eyes at him.

Stiles turned and left the kitchen, hurrying up the stairs and hoping Derek wouldn't do anything stupid before he got back downstairs. Once in his bedroom, Stiles dropped to his knees and dug around under his bed until his hand wrapped around a familiar length of wood. Grinning, he pulled out his baseball bat from his little league days, chewed up on the big end by one of the K9 officers but still his weapon of choice against bad dreams and things that went bump in the night.

Running back downstairs, Stiles let out a yelp when he collided with Derek halfway down, sending the two of them tumbling down the rest of the stairs and landing with a clatter and groans in a heap at the bottom. "Well, if there's someone in the basement, they know we're here," Derek growled out.

"Not like we weren't making a ton of noise before the crash," Stiles pointed out as he rubbed his hip from where it had landed on the bat, picturing the bruise that would be there by morning. "Do...do you really think there's someone down there?"

"You have a better explanation?" Derek asked, lifting a finger to his lips where a spot of blood appeared when he pressed against it. "Fuck, bit through my lip." Shaking his head, he pushed himself to his feet and reached out to help Stiles up, giving the bat a questioning look.

"We can't go downstairs without a weapon!" 

"And a bat is going to keep us safe if they have a gun?" Derek pointed out.

Stiles' heart seized up in his chest before launching into an insane staccato rhythm as his breathing became labored. "Cops," he gasped out and Derek nodded, pulling out his cell phone, dialing with one hand while pulling Stiles towards the front door with the other.

The call was answered quickly and Derek was giving the address by the time they reached the car, Stiles clutching the bat and Derek holding Stiles. He remained on the phone until flashing lights could be seen at the end of the block, hanging up to greet the officers that exited the patrol car when it was parked across the end of the driveway. The officers went inside while Derek and Stiles stayed by the vehicles, Derek rubbing a hand up and down Stiles's arm as he held him against his chest.

The officers were only in the house for a moment when the lights that had been burning throughout suddenly went out just as one window that had been darkened lit up. Stiles swallowed hard as Derek gasped as a shadow crossed in front of the window to what had been Derek's parents' bedroom. Derek dropped his hold on Stiles to move closer to the house, Stiles' hand on his arm stopping him. "We can't go in," he said. "We don't want the cops to think we're intruders."

"We have to tell them about the bedroom! There's someone up there!" Derek argued as the officers came back out of the house. "There's someone upstairs!" Derek pointed to the window but before the officers could turn around, the light in the bedroom went out and the rest of the house lit back up.

"Have you had the wiring in the house checked?" the first officer asked. "The power went out as soon as we reached the top of the basement stairs."

"It's been giving us trouble for a couple of months," Derek told him. "Always goes off and only stays for a for a short time before suddenly coming back on." His gaze kept shifting to the bedroom window and Stiles squeezed his hand to draw his attention back to the conversation. "We've been investigating, but I guess I'll have to call in an electrician."

"I would recommend it," the second officer said. "I shouldn't do this, but my sister-in-law is an electrician. I can give you her number."

Derek didn't answer, his head turned back towards the house, eyes narrowing. "That'd be great," Stiles responded, holding his hand out for the business card the officer produced, laughing when the first officer rolled his eyes. "Thanks."

"There was nothing in the basement or-"

"There was someone in the upstairs bedroom," Derek interrupted. "It looked like a woman."

"When did you see this?" 

"When the lights went out in the rest of the house, that bedroom light came on," Stiles explained.

"We'll go check it out." The officer returned to the house, the lights remaining on this time. 

Derek was restless while the officers were inside, barely stilling underneath Stiles' hand on his arm. "I saw a woman, I know I did. Didn't you?"

"I saw something," Stiles told him, wanting to agree with Derek, but unsure of what the shadow actually had been beyond an amorphous blob.

"It was definitely a woman," he stated firmly. "I just know it."

Stiles opened his mouth to speak when the officers came outside, their expressions much more serious than when they'd gone inside. He snapped his mouth shut, alarm bells ringing in his head. "Did you find her?" Derek asked.

"Look, kids," the officer who'd given them the card started, voice terse. "We don't appreciate prank calls wasting our time. I know people have a bad-"

"It's not a prank," Stiles interrupted. "I would never..." he trailed off thinking off the times he'd pulled similar things on the deputies that worked for his father to lead them away from parties and other things until they'd started heading in the opposite direction of his calls. "We were in the kitchen when something in the basement crashed. Maybe we overreacted-"

"There was someone in that bedroom! I saw her when the light came on!" Derek argued.

"Kid-"

"Derek," he grit out. "Derek Hale. Homeowner. Definitely not a kid."

"Mr Hale," the officer corrected himself, tone growing even more brusque. "There aren't even any light bulbs in that room. We flipped the switch and nothing happened. There is no way light came on in that room and no way you saw a woman. Again, we don't appreciate prank calls and if you do it again, we will arrest you."

With that, the two officers returned to their car. Stiles tried to talk to them, but they ignored him and he watched them drive away. Turning around, he saw Derek's back disappearing into the house. "Dammit," he mumbled, shouldering his bat and chasing after him. 

The foyer was empty when he got there and Stiles sincerely hoped Derek hadn't gone into the basement, but when he heard something hit the floor in the room to his left, the closed-off library, he started up the stairs to Derek's parents' bedroom. As he climbed, he heard more crashing sounds coming from the room below and hoped that whatever was going through the floor of the bedroom didn't include Derek himself.

The door stood open and Derek sat leaned against the wall to the right of it, knees pulled to his chest and forehead resting on his knees, chest heaving. Moving carefully past him, Stiles looked through the hole in the floor and saw bits of furniture and books in a pile directly below the hole and the bookcase on the wall was emptier than it had been the first time he'd seen it.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Do you smell it?" Derek asked, breath hitching as he lifted his head and leaned it back against the wall.

Stiles took a deep breath, old smoke and mildew filled his senses and his nose twitched as his stomach twisted. He started to lift his arm to cover his nose with his shirt sleeve when he stopped and inhaled again. His nose twitched again and he began to sneeze as a musky citrus scent overwhelmed him. "Perfume."

"Yes. A woman was here. I knew I saw her," Derek said. "We have to see if those tapes are in the basement."

Stiles moved to stand in front of Derek and held a hand out, helping him to his feet when he took it. "Can it wait until daylight?" Derek huffed but nodded. "Okay, why don't we grab the rest of the food and camp out in my room and watch more Buzzfeed Unsolved?"

Derek rolled his eyes, but nodded, keeping his hand entwined with Stiles as they headed toward the stairs. "This place is definitely haunted," he said to Stiles. 

"The question is by who," Stiles agreed.


	5. Chapter Five

The next morning, Stiles groaned and pushed himself to sit up, glancing around his room. Sunlight streamed around the shade pulled over the window lending enough light for Stiles to see that the room was empty aside from himself. Stretching a hand out, he felt residual warmth on Derek's side of the bed, so the man hadn't been gone long. Moving to the edge of the bed, he pushed himself to stand, his back aching from having fallen asleep sitting up in bed while watching videos on his laptop. 

Glancing around the room, he spotted his laptop on the nightstand and Derek's bag standing open, the sweats he'd been wearing the night before lying haphazardly across it. A damp towel hung over the radiator near the bathroom door and Stiles was amazed he'd slept through Derek not only leaving the room but showering. Digging through the dresser, he grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom, stopping when he smelled bacon coming from downstairs. Sniffing his underarm, he decided to forgo a shower and changed quickly before hurrying downstairs.

"Morning," Derek greeted him at the bottom of the stairs with a mug of coffee and a smile. 

"You are the single greatest thing that has ever happened to me," Stiles moaned. A surprised squeak escaped Derek's mouth and Stiles smirked. "I was talking to the coffee."

"Asshole," Derek said softly after a moment of silence and a wink from Stiles. "Come get some food before it gets cold."

They settled at the table, eating and Stiles' gaze kept shifting to the file folder sitting on the counter. He'd woken up with some thoughts not only about the fire but about the ghost haunting the house. He was convinced that the woman was Derek's mother and wanted to ask if the perfume had been familiar but before he could open his mouth, Derek was talking.

"In all the episodes of that show you've watched, have you ever come across a ghost haunting a place where they didn't die?" he asked, pushing a bit of scrambled egg around on his plate.

Stiles chewed the last piece of bacon thoughtfully. "Not on that show, but I do think I remember hearing tales of people being haunted by loved ones even after they'd left the homes where they'd been living." He swallowed and reached for his coffee taking a long drink. "I guess if they had a reason, they could attach themselves to a person rather than a place."

Derek nodded, standing and dumping the contents of his still mostly full plate into the trash and putting it into the dishwasher. He returned and took Stiles' plate. "Ghosts usually stick around due to unfinished business, right?"

Stiles nodded. "That's the general consensus for an intelligent apparition." He watched Derek run a finger over the file folder. "You think it's the former Sheriff." Derek shrugged. "It's actually a good idea, but that doesn't explain the woman or the perfume." He bit his lip. "Did the perfume smell familiar? Like maybe it was your mom's?"

Derek opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped, narrowing his eyes. "Not her normal perfume," he responded. "About a week before the fire, she started wearing something new. Said it had been a gift from one of the kids she and dad had helped years before." He wrinkled his nose. "I hated it. It was too strong so she never wore it again."

Stiles was thoughtful and reached for the file. "Did she give you a name?" Derek shook his head as Stiles flipped through the pages of the file, frowning again at the page of taped interview notations. 

"Ready to go find those tapes?" Derek asked and Stiles' looked at the basement door; a shudder passed through him. "Come on, I'll hold your hand the entire time."

Stiles took his offered hand and stood up. "Alright, but we're taking a flashlight. I am  _ not _ getting stuck in the basement in the dark."

"Deal," Derek said, pulling him towards the sink and reaching into the cupboard underneath to grab the largest flashlight Stiles had ever seen and he was used to his father's police-issue Maglights.

They stood at the top of the steps, staring down into the darkness. Derek reached out with the hand holding the flashlight to flip the light on, both of them letting out sighs when the basement lit up. Moving slowly, they made their way downstairs, Derek leading the way and not commenting on the way Stiles was crushing his hand.

They reached the bottom and Stiles got his first look at the basement. Half of it was filled with boxes and behind it, Stiles spotted some sheet-covered furniture. Following Derek's tugging hand, they moved between the stacks of boxes to find a door that stood open.

"That was locked," Derek said, moving closer. "I checked the last time I was here." He shook his head, running a hand roughly through his hair. "I checked."

"I'm sure you did," Stiles told him, eyeing the door. "What's in there?"

"The stuff the Sheriff left me. Some things that belonged to my parents that survived the fire. Photo albums." He closed his eyes like he was trying to remember. "I didn't go in there that often and the last time was when I put the stuff from the Sheriff in there." 

"Where are the keys?" 

"On my keyring. I hung them on the hook by the refrigerator last night when we switched vehicles," Derek told him, stopping as he took a step closer to the door, reaching out a hand to the knob and pulling his keys out of the lock. "How the hell?" 

"This feels more like an intruder," Stiles told him. “But my gut still says ghost.” 

They each took a deep breath and stepped into the room, Stiles expecting a mess after the crash they'd heard the night before, but the room was organized, shelves lined with boxes. He identified the police file boxes right away from his years spent in his dad's office growing up. There were ten of them taking up nearly an entire set of shelves. One of them was lying in the middle of the floor, lid open to reveal more files and a smaller box. The smaller box was open with cassette tapes inside, a few of them scattered on the floor around the main box.

"I get the feeling we should listen to these," Derek said, squatting down and picking up a tape. Stiles looked over his shoulder, reading the front of the cassette. "Do these numbers look familiar?"

"They match the ones in the file upstairs," Stiles told him. "I think I have an old cassette player in one of the boxes in my closet, let's get started." Derek handed the tapes on the floor to Stiles, closing the box and hoisting it up as he stood. He hesitated before leaving the room, nostrils flaring. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Derek told him, sniffing again. "I thought I smelled the perfume again."

Stiles sniffed a couple of times, smelling nothing and shrugged. He moved through the door, freezing when he was overwhelmed by the scent just as the lights in the basement went out. "Well, fuck," he said.


	6. Chapter Six

Stiles jumped, dropping a couple of the tapes in his hands as he felt something brush along his back. "Is that you, Derek? Please tell me that's you," he squeaked out, his panic turning to indignation when Derek chuckled, his breath brushing the back of Stiles' neck.

"It's me," Derek told him. "You didn't drop your flashlight, did you?"

"Nope," Stiles said. "I set it down somewhere back there while we were looking at the tapes though."

"So did I," Derek admitted. "Okay, stay right here and I'll try to find them." 

"Just keep talking to me," Stiles said, swallowing when the warmth of Derek's hand left his back.

"You're the talker," Derek teased. "I'm really starting to think these blackouts have nothing to do with the electricity. It seems to happen..." He trailed off and there was a clatter and he cursed under his breath.

"Derek?"

"Just kicked something," he muttered. "Where the hell is that-"

"Fuck!" Stiles yelped when both flashlights flared to life, their beams pointed underneath one of the shelving units. "Uh, I think we should probably look there."

Derek nodded but didn't move until Stiles set down the last couple of tapes he'd managed to keep his grip on and stepped up next to him. Kneeling at the same time they ducked their heads to look underneath the shelves and saw the beams crossed, creating a pool of light. In the center of the pool was a golden tube. "What?" Stiles asked reaching for it, but as his fingers got closer, the flashlights flicked off. When he jerked his hand backwards, they lit up again. "We aren't going to touch that."

"Good idea," Derek said backing away and rising to his feet. 

Stiles hesitated, testing the flashlights again, giving up when they did the same on and off routine. Shaking his head, he rose to his feet, brushing off his knees just as the lights flashed back on again. "When we figure out who this fucking ghost is, I'm giving him a serious talking to about comedic timing." The lights flickered briefly and Stiles glared. "Oh, fuck off," he said, jumping when a plastic pumpkin fell off the top of the shelving unit landing at Stiles' feet. 

"I don't think the ghost likes cursing," Derek said as Stiles shoved the pumpkin away with his foot. 

Moving quickly, they gathered the tapes and the evidence box, heading back up the stairs to the kitchen. "This table is too small for all of this," Stiles commented. 

"Follow me," Derek said and they climbed the stairs, stopping to grab a couple of lights on long cords before reaching the second floor. Turning and passing the bedrooms, Derek stopped and reached above him, tugging on a string that Stiles had never seen because he'd not gone past the bedrooms before that moment. "I don't use the attic much," he explained, "but there used to be a large dining room table up there that my sisters and I would use to make forts." 

The stairs he'd revealed by pulling the cord were in decent shape and Stiles appreciated the part of the attic they climbed into was on the opposite side of the house from the burned-out bedroom; he wondered if the damage had gone up to the attic but didn't have any desire to investigate. Reaching the top, he sneezed a couple of times from the dust that had been disturbed while Derek moved carefully to hang the working lights from a couple of hooks in the rafters. 

"Damn, how many sisters do you have? You could fit a small army under that table," Stiles teased, setting the tapes down next to the box. Looking around he eyed the slanted ceiling, reaching out to run his fingers over the drywall that was in surprisingly good shape for a room that hadn't been used in years. "Do you have pushpins?"

"Not up here," Derek said. "I might in a box in the basement. Why?"

"You ever watch any criminal procedure shows?" Stiles asked, opening the box and pulling out the files, opening one and pulling out a stack of pictures.

"You want to make a murder board?" Derek asked. 

"We can call it something else, but essentially, yes. It'll help us look at the big picture and maybe see something that the Sheriff missed, although if that is him haunting the basement, I have a feeling he didn't miss a trick."

Working slowly and methodically, they managed to use the table to plan out the board, making sections for each recording and the information on the person that went along with it. They stopped for lunch and again for dinner, managing to find the pushpins at one point and bring them back upstairs.

At some point, Scott had found them in the attic, took one look at the investigation board and said he’d be staying at his girlfriend’s until they were done playing police officer. After a quick hug, Stiles promised to explain and keep him updated.

The sky outside the window had grown to darkness, the stars barely visible when Stiles yawned loudly enough to draw Derek's intense focus on the tape playing from the radio sitting on the corner of the table. "Time for sleep," he said, reaching over and shutting off the tape just as the Sheriff announced an interview with one Kate Argent, office assistant at Mr. Hale's law firm. Stiles made a note on the notepad they'd broken out earlier where they'd left off and scanned back over the notes he'd made on the interviews with other employees, none of the information jumped out at him as something of interest. 

He rose and followed Derek around the attic as he switched off the lights and made his way down the stairs, turning back to offer Stiles a hand on his lower back as he made his way down the stairs. He was doing fine until something dropped to the floor in the attic and startled him. Flailing, he fell into Derek, knocking both of them to the ground with a clatter followed by a burst of laughter.

"I would accuse the ghosts of trying to kill us, but I think that was my flashlight and it's more likely I left it where it could roll off the table," Stiles said, trying to sit up and stopping when Derek's fingers dug into his hide. "Stop!" Stiles squealed, trying to get away. They rolled until Derek had him pinned with one hand pressed to the center of his back, the other still digging into his sides. "What is going on with you?"

"We're not thinking about ghosts or hauntings or anything to do with this case for the rest of the night," Derek said, decisively. "We're getting out of the house and staying at my loft."

"What brought this on?" Stiles asked, sitting up when Derek climbed off to sit on the floor, back to the wall and arms draped over his bent knees. 

"We're exhausted and that's just going to keep us from being effective," Derek said, leaning into Stiles when he moved to sit next to him. "Plus, I want to see if we have anything in common outside of all of this."

"Sounds like a plan," Stiles said as he heard a noise in the foyer. Exchanging a look, they rose and moved to the stairs, looking downstairs to the front door standing open, Derek's keys lying on the floor in the opening. "It looks like someone agrees with us."

"I am not arguing," Derek said, heading into Stiles' room to grab his bag and waiting while Stiles packed some clothes.

Once they were outside and the house was locked up, Stiles hurried to the car, climbing in and glancing up at the attic window. "Derek," he said, pointing to where a shadow stood and as Derek looked up, it appeared to raise a hand and press it against the glass.

"We'll be back tomorrow, Sheriff," he said, quietly and the shadow shimmered and disappeared. "Guess that answers the haunting question."

"And that's the end of that topic," Derek said, starting the Camaro. "Let's get ice cream and we'll watch something on Netflix. Nothing to do with ghosts or death," he hurried to add when Stiles opened his mouth to make some suggestions.

"Romantic comedies it is," Stiles muttered, putting on his best annoyed expression, but secretly pleased that they were going to be hanging out and not worrying about the mystery that was taking over their lives.

They talked companionably in the car on the way to the Ben & Jerry's where they each got a cone and a couple of pints to take back to Derek's for later, although it was already the wrong side of ten o'clock when they got to Derek's loft. It was the first time that Stiles had been there and he immediately started poking his nose around, although with the sparse furnishing it didn't take long. 

He followed Derek into the kitchen where he was putting away the pints and pulling sodas out of the fridge. "Are you finished being nosy?" 

"Well, I didn't find your diary, but it'll have to do," Stiles said with a shrug, pulling himself up to sit on the counter and swinging his feet so the heels were banging against the cupboard, earning a glare.

"It's called a journal and it's between my mattress and box spring," he said seriously and Stiles jumped off the counter, heading towards the door when Derek started laughing.

"You're an asshole," Stiles told him, leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

"So I've been told," Derek said, opening a cupboard and pulling out a popcorn maker. "I hate watching movies without popcorn."

"Same," Stiles said. "Do you have any chocolate to mix in?" he asked, laughing at the look Derek gave him, eyebrows pulled together, upper lip curled in disgust. "It's great!"

"Butter, that's it," Derek told him.

"I bet you hate pineapple on pizza, too."

"Blasphemous to put fruit on pizza," Derek said, putting a bag in the microwave, closing it with more force than necessary.

"The sauce is made from fruit," Stiles argued, arms waving around.

"You're one of those," Derek said, laughing, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, biceps pulling the material of the sleeves of the henley tight and drying out Stiles' throat.

"One of what?" Stiles asked, but kept talking before Derek could respond. "Do you like me?"

A strange choked off sound escaped Derek and he looked around as if the answer to the unexpected question was floating in the air. "You're here," he said. "I don't really have people over."

"Not even Boyd?" Stiles asked, moving closer.

"Well, I've known Boyd since we were five," Derek responded. "So, he's kind of family." He grew quiet as he looked at a point over Stiles' shoulder and when he turned to try and follow the gaze, he saw photos arranged on the far wall in matching black wooden frames. 

Moving over to them, he saw pictures of Derek with his family, Boyd next to him in a great many of them. As Derek aged, the photos changed and Derek was pictured with his sisters with Boyd, a little girl that must be his sister and an elderly woman. He jumped when Derek spoke up right next to him. "When mom and dad died, I went to live with Boyd and his grandmother. My oldest sister went to New York to go to college and our little sister Cora went with her."

"Why didn't you go?" Stiles asked, smiling at a picture of Derek and his sisters sitting in a large armchair, the two girls on Derek's lap, all three of them laughing and he fought the urge to reach out and run a finger over Derek's smile.

"I'd already lost my parents, I didn't want to uproot the rest of my life. It was my senior year of high school and I thought I'd join them in New York when I graduated," he explained.

"Did you?" 

"I did," Derek said. "For a year, but the summer after my freshman year, Alicia, Boyd's sister, died and he didn't want to leave his grandmother so he transferred here and I did, too. My sisters understood, even though it was hard to be separated. Still is," he admitted.

Stiles turned away from the photos and reached a hand out, hesitating to touch Derek, but the man leaned his cheek into Stiles' palm with a soft smile. "But I have friends here and that makes it easier."

"Friends like Boyd," Stiles said.

"And Erica, Boyd's girlfriend from the diner. And Isaac who you haven't met yet," he continued, pointing at the wall but Stiles didn't look away from his face, his thumb rubbing absently over his cheekbone as Derek's eyes flickered to meet his, the green intense and searching. "And you?" His voice went soft and unsure.

"And me," Stiles clarified, ready to continue the words lost as Derek's lips brushed against his briefly and the sound of the microwave going off drew their attention away from each other and onto the smell of almost-burnt popcorn.

"C'mon," Derek said, reaching up and tangling his fingers with the ones Stiles had against his cheek. "Let's get the popcorn and settle in and watch a movie. Any suggestions?"

They started up a romantic comedy that neither of them had heard on and was probably going to be terrible, but Stiles secretly hoped they would spend the time talking and getting to know each other rather than watching the movie. He ate a couple of handfuls of popcorn, eyes focused on the opening sequence which was a cartoon version of what was probably supposed to be the main girl going through a day in the life backed up by a cheesy eighties anthem by some girl group his mom had loved. Chuckling, he glanced over at Derek who had his face turned watching him, a small smile on his face.

"Do I have popcorn on my face?" Stiles asked, running a hand from his forehead down over his chin.

"You're not watching the movie," he said, picking up a piece of popcorn and throwing it at him.

"Neither are you," Stiles countered. "What's it about anyway?"

"Some girl thinks she's gonna die on a plane and spills her guts to a strange guy sitting next to her that turns out to be her boss," Derek explained, chuckling when Stiles rolled his eyes.

"And they fall madly in love and live happily ever after, yadda yadda yadda," Stiles said, waving his hands around. "Life just doesn't work out that way."

"Really?" Derek said, turning on the couch to face Stiles, pulling one leg up and leaving the other on the floor. "And how does life work out, oh wise one?"

"Well, smart ass, it just so happens I do know a tale of romance and magic that started off in an unlikely manner," Stiles said, mirroring Derek's position, their knees on the couch brushing as he set the bowl of popcorn between them so he could use both hands to gesture; stories were always better when told with exuberance and dramatic hand flourishes. "Once upon a time there was a young deputy who had just started in a small-town Sheriff's department. Being the rookie, he was given all of the crap jobs, like patrolling the local makeout spot." Stiles waggled his eyebrows and Derek shook his head, grabbing another piece of popcorn to throw at Stiles who caught it in his mouth with a smug grin.

"You can't even use a straw properly!" Derek pointed out indignantly.

"Blasphemy and lies," Stiles said with a wave of his hand that Derek ducked out of the way to avoid. "Anyway, to continue our tale of romance in the real world, we join our rookie deputy on his way to Lookout Point on a rainy Saturday night. The roads were empty, only one car passed his going rather quickly as he turned off the main road. It was only a couple of minutes drive down the road and our deputy took it slow because of the wet pavement and the twists and turns. He was coming around one of the sharpest curves and his headlights passed over a figure on the side of the road that startled and fell to the roadside."

"Ouch," Derek commented when Stiles paused to take a breath and a sip of soda. "I'm guessing we're about to find out where you got your grace from," he teased.

"Yep," he said, grinning. "So, our deputy, dear old dad, pulls off the road and gets out, hurrying to the figure that is still sitting in the mud, head thrown back and laughing loudly enough to be heard over the rain. As he drew closer, a flash of lightning lit up the sky and gave dad his first glimpse of mom, Claudia Gajos and to hear him tell it was love at first sight. He stumbled and ended up in the mud right next to her, covered in mud. They went on their first date less than a week later and married within a year. They lived happily ever..." Stiles trailed off, the humor leaving his face as quickly as it usually appeared. "Well, they were happy until they weren't."

Derek held his hand, palm up, between them, smiling sadly when Stiles laid his on top. "As much as I hate that I lost both my parents at the same time," Derek started, speaking slowly as he studied Stiles' face, "I can't even begin to imagine what would have happened if one had to live without the other."

"How did they meet?" Stiles asked, reaching for the remote and shutting off the movie just as the very attractive leading man crossed the screen for the first time, and put the popcorn bowl on the table before settling closer to Derek, smiling when he draped an arm across the back of the couch, fingers brushing Stiles' shoulder.

"Their story isn't quite as exciting as your parents," Derek admitted. "My mom was the top-ranked student in her class and my dad was a football player that was failing English. Their teacher asked mom to tutor him and despite her misgivings, she agreed. By the time he'd taken his mid-term exam and barely passed, they'd realized they had a bit in common and decided to date." He shrugged when Stiles laughed. "No love at first sight or any of that mumbo-jumbo."

Stiles laughter grew louder until he snorted and smacked a hand down on Derek's thigh. "Okay, first off, mumbo-jumbo?" Derek rolled his eyes making Stiles laugh even louder. "And, second, you do realize you described the plot to at least a dozen teen rom-coms, right? Throw in the popular girl who tries to destroy the nerdy girl or a bucket of pig's blood and you've got a hit."

Derek smirked. "Did I forget to mention that on top of being the smartest kid in her class, she was also head cheerleader, homecoming queen, and class president?" 

Flailing, Stiles grabbed the entire bowl of popcorn and dumped it over Derek's head. "Oh my god! You're like a descendant of high school royalty!"

"Shut up," Derek said, turning his face away as he started picking up the popcorn and putting it back in the bowl, tossing a piece at Stiles every once in a while. 

Stiles settled back and watched him, noting the pink coloring the tips of Derek's ears, feeling the fondness he had for him growing with each second the silence between them grew. He tried to imagine Derek in high school but couldn't come up with anything other than a slightly shorter version than what was sat before him, he giggled as he pictured Derek springing fully formed from his mother's head rather than being born a baby and growing up like a normal person.

"What's so funny?" Derek asked.

"If your parents were the Queen and King, what were you?" Stiles asked. "In high school, I mean. What were you like?"

Derek stood and disappeared from the room without a word, carrying the bowl with him and Stiles wondered if he'd pushed the issue too far, if Derek was done talking about his parents, tired of the emotions that memories brought about. He knew there were times he would have to leave a room when talk of his mother because too much to bear. When Derek didn't come back right away, Stiles began gathering his stuff, not relishing the thought of going back to the house by himself and considered going home for the rest of the weekend to see his dad.

He was checking the Uber app for a ride back to the house to pick up his Jeep when Derek returned, a couple of books and a shoebox in his hand. "Where are you going?" he asked, settling on the couch, setting the box and one of the books on the table. 

"I thought I said something that upset you," Stiles explained, standing in the middle of the room, shifting his feet and watching Derek narrow his brows before shaking his head and patting the couch cushion next to him.

"I went to get my yearbooks," he told him. "I figured I would show you what I was like in high school."

"Awesome," Stiles said, dropping his bag and hurrying to drop down on the couch and making grabby hands at the yearbook which Derek moved to hold above his head, just out of Stiles' reach. 

They wrestled for a few minutes, Stiles trying to climb over Derek to get his hands on the book, knocking them both back against the cushions. His fingers brushed the edge of the book, slipping off and causing him to tumble completely atop Derek, their faces ending up just a couple of inches away from each other. "Hi," Stiles said, his grin frozen in place.

"Hello," Derek responded, his grin mirroring Stiles. After a minute of their eyes tracing each other's faces, Stiles cleared his throat and made to climb off of Derek. "Where are you going? I thought you would want to see the Prince of High School Royalty in action."

Stiles slapped at Derek's bicep, trying to sit up again and giving up when he was manhandled to lie sideways on the couch with Derek behind him squashed up against the back of the couch, the hand holding the yearbook coming up over his side to lay in front of Stiles, open to a page in the middle. There was a black and white photo of a basketball team along with a couple of action shots.

"This is Freshman year," Derek explained. "See if you can find me."

Stiles leaned over to look at the names listed below the group photo, huffing out a laugh when Derek leaned over him, laying his hand over the names. "Fine," he said, squinting down at the photo, starting with the middle row since Derek was pretty average height now he was probably average then or maybe even tall. 

He ran a finger over the row, hesitating over different faces but none of them was enough to convince Stiles that they were young Derek. Smiling, he moved to the back row but most of the kids in that row were blond. He looked back over his shoulder at Derek, trying to picture him with blond hair, remembering when Jackson Whittemore, the richest guy at school, had done that thinking it was cool and he really just looked like a cotton swab.

"I've never dyed my hair," Derek told him, chuckling at Stiles' sceptical look. "I swear."

When the back row didn't give Stiles anything, he finally moved to the front row, the kids sitting on the bench, making them appear even shorter. He wasn't really paying attention, assuming Derek would tell him if he gave up and the surrender was on the tip of his tongue when his eyes caught on the kid sitting on the far right, a full head shorter than the kid next to him. Dark hair fell across a forehead brushing smaller versions of the eyebrows he'd gotten to know so well over the past few weeks. Ears stuck out from the side, not enough to earn a nickname like Dumbo but enough that Stiles would've had the urge to flick the tops of them, tops that he enjoyed watching turn pink with embarrassment. 

The boy was smiling, his two front teeth prominent and he flashed back to the family photo from the Police file. Stiles couldn’t help cooing over the adorable child that had grown into the man snuggled up behind him, chin hooked over his shoulder, breath brushing his cheek as Stiles tapped the photo. "This adorable little ball of awkwardness was you!"

"Yep," Derek said. "Feeling a bit better about dating, what did you call me, the descendant of high school royalty?"

"Is that what we're doing here?" Stiles asked, eyes still locked on pubescent Derek, a soft smile tickling the edges of his lips even though his mind was running with a million different thoughts over what Derek had just said.

"I would like to think that's where this is going," he responded after a minute. "I know we haven't actually done anything that would really constitute traditional dating, but since we met in a haunted house, maybe all the rules go out the window."

"That's funny," Stiles said. "Tradition is overrated anyway."

"It is," Derek agreed, bringing forward the other book and opening it. "This is senior year after I hit a growth spurt and puberty was more or less done torturing me." He flipped the pages until he'd reached the larger full-color images that seniors usually had in yearbooks. 

It only took Stiles a minute to find him that time. Derek didn't look too much different than he did now sitting across from him, even the stubble was already nearly perfect on the only slightly more rounded cheeks. He ran his fingers over the quote beneath the picture with a smile, whispering the words to himself, feeling as if he understood Derek more than he had two minutes earlier.  _ "Dear Past, thank you for all the lessons. Dear Future, I'm ready." _

The challenge put forth in those words was not lost on Stiles, knowing it was only a few short months after graduation that Derek had lost his parents. He wondered if Derek saw the words any differently now than when he’d first composed them. He wanted to ask, but the topic was too serious for the nostalgic tour of Derek’s life so he turned his attention away from Derek and back to the book.

Turning the pages, he looked for the athletic teams’ pages, stopping on the basketball team, eyes drawn to Derek standing in the middle of the photo now, a "C" prominent on the chest of his jersey. "Team Captain, of course."

"I'll tell you a secret," Derek said, tapping a line below the photo that said,  _ "Not Pictured: Camden Lahey, Captain." _

"You were just a substitute?" Stiles asked, laughing as Derek shrugged, ears pinking before he smiled and continued turning pages, scanning each one and stopping on another one where Derek was pictured with a small group of students. "The PEP Club? Did you wave pom poms and such?" The laughter fought against his lips as he looked up at Derek who frowned in return.

"P-E-P. Peer Education Program," Derek explained. "We were student counselors. Went through training and everything. I used to man the office during my lunch hour."

"So, you were taking after your parents," Stiles observed. "Helping those in need."

"They helped me get the program started when I was a junior. It was a tough fight with the adult counselors at the school until they realized how much more willing the kids were to talk to someone their own age than an adult." Derek shrugged. "It took a lot of research, but it was worth it in the end."

"I've always loved research," Stiles told him. "I would spend hours in the library usually starting on whatever project I was working on and ending up in wormhole that ended with a completely different topic. Thankfully my teachers were pretty understanding." He laughed before continuing. "I got an A+ on an essay for Economics that ended up being on the history of male circumcision. I think the teacher just didn't want to read the entire paper once he saw the title." He snorted a laugh on the last word.

Derek narrowed his eyes. "It was 'To Cut or Not to Cut’, wasn't it?"

"Nah. I wasn't that clever then. It was just 'The Effects of Forced Body Modification on Modern Day Capitalism'."

"That's a lot of big words. I wouldn't have read it either," Derek told him, taking away the yearbook and setting it to the side before he lifted the lid off the box revealing photographs. "These are from after high school," he explained as he grabbed a handful and sorted through them, handing one over. "This is me and my sisters. Laura is the older one and Cora the younger."

"Laura and Cora?" 

"Yeah. People always asked my mom if she'd had another boy if she would've named him Eric, but apparently the rhyming wasn't intentional and once they'd realized it they couldn't change Cora's," Derek told him, smiling. "I'm not sure if the teasing bugged my sisters or my mother more, but my father did most of the teasing." He stopped for a moment before grabbing out another picture. "Although not as much as my Uncle Peter, mom's younger brother."

"This says Peter Hale? I thought Hale was your father's last name," Stiles said, eyes narrowed.

"It was after he married my mom," Derek told him. "My dad grew up in a foster home carrying his father's last name, a father that abused him and he was more than ready to get rid of the name when he married. My dad became a Hale and no one batted an eye."

"Damn, no wonder your parents did what they did," Stiles said, grabbing some more pictures and flipping through them, stopping as something caught his eye. "What's this?" 

Derek leaned into Stiles' side to look at the photo, lips turning down in a frown. "This was taken at a work party for my dad." He swallowed before standing and moving across the loft seemingly without purpose before turning and striding back to Stiles and dropping down next to him for a second before starting to stand again, stopping when Stiles grabbed his arm.

"What's wrong?" 

"That was taken the night my parents died," Derek explained. "I don't even know how the photo got in there. My parents couldn’t have taken it; they're both in it and not even looking at the camera."

Stiles studied the photo more closely, the smiles on the Hales' faces as they talked with a young couple next to them were bright and he could feel his own face mirroring them despite the seriousness of the situation. They stood in front of a wall of windows, the lights of the city behind them. Tilting his head, Stiles tapped the photo just to the left of the couple. "Do you see this?"

Derek didn't look right away, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a couple of deep breaths before shifting his eyes to the photo again. "What is that?"

"That's who took the photo," Stiles explained, tapping the photo again over the reflection of a young woman holding a phone out, the flare of a flash visible. "Do you know who she is?"

"I..." Derek squinted at the photo before shaking his head. "I don't think so, but her face is mostly covered by the camera flash."

"Something about her is familiar like I've seen her somewhere before," Stiles commented. "Feels like I saw her recently."

Derek was quiet as he studied the picture, the fun and teasing that had been flowing through the night gone and Stiles knew they were both focused on the mystery of the house again; the one thing they didn’t want to think about had taken over again. He gently took the photo from Derek and put it back into the box, replacing the lid and putting the yearbooks on top before sliding them to the other side of the coffee table.

"Enough," Stiles said. "Memory Lane is leading to places we don't want to go." He picked up the remote and aimed it at the television again. "I think Hulu has some John Hughes movies we can watch."

"I don't have Hulu," Derek responded, but his eyes focused on Stiles and he counted it as a win.

"Good thing I'm willing to share, then." Stiles quickly downloaded the app to the Fire Stick and logged in. "Stereotypical eighties high school hi-jinx, here we come."

"You're such a dork," Derek laughed. Before the title even crossed the screen, he stretched his arm along the back of the couch behind Stiles.

Sliding closer, Stiles took a chance to lean his head against Derek's shoulder, holding his breath until Derek's hand dropped onto Stiles' shoulder, squeezing gently. Tilting his head, he smiled up at Derek who had his eyes locked on the screen, but his lips were tilted upwards just enough that Stiles pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

"Okay?" he asked when he pulled away, Derek's eyes still on the screen.

"Okay," Derek responded, his eyes sliding to look at Stiles as he pulled him more firmly against his side. "Definitely okay."


	7. Chapter Seven

Sunday morning came and went before Stiles even opened his eyes. The night before hadn't ended until well after two in the morning and an argument over which of the members of the breakfast club they were the most like, Stiles refusing to believe he was anyone but Bender and Derek insisting that Stiles was definitely a Brian. The argument had devolved to an impromptu wrestling match when Stiles suggested that Derek was totally an Andrew.

Stiles had totally won the wrestling match even if Derek had pinned him because he'd gotten more kisses out of it. Those kisses would probably have lead somewhere if he hadn't ruined the moment by yawning loudly in Derek's face. They'd gone to bed after cleaning up, Derek's bed larger than Stiles’ but they still managed to migrate to the center, Stiles' head on Derek's chest.

Now, Stiles was alone but the shower was running so he figured he could sleep for a few more minutes at least. He'd just closed his eyes when the shower shut off and the bathroom door opened. Popping open one eye, he watched Derek exit the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He crossed to the dresser and opened the drawers, pulling out clothes before heading back to the bathroom.

The towel slipped dangerously low as he turned to close the door and Stiles let out a wolf whistle. Derek froze and Stiles laughed. The laugh dying when Derek gave a wink and whipped the towel off just as he closed the door giving Stiles only a split-second glimpse of naked skin.

"Asshole!" he shouted and heard Derek laughing through the door.

When Stiles had moved into the house, he remembered being attracted to Derek in an abstract way, but after getting to know him and even spending more time with him since Scott had left and the ghosts had freaked him out, his abstract attraction had turned into something more. After the previous night, he felt certain the feelings were returned but he just hoped that they would continue once they figured out what was going on at the house. He genuinely liked Derek and the things he'd learned about him the night before made him even more tangible in Stiles' mind. He was a real person, not just the guy he was renting from.

The plan today was to head back to the house and find out if the girl taking the photograph was in any of the police files or other pictures they'd found in the basement. They'd add the one of Derek's parents to the wall and go from there. They'd set a limit of two hours to work on the mystery before they would break for food and then work on his parents' bedroom. Although Stiles admitted to being completely hopeless with power tools, Derek promised to show him what needed to be done and keep him from injuring himself. He was curious to see how it would go, but was pretty certain at some point there would be a hospital visit in his near future.

By the time Derek had exited the bedroom, Stiles had his phone in hand, checking in with Scott who was having a great time and would talk to him when he got back because Stiles had managed to interrupt some ‘quality’ time with Kira. He had been kind enough to ask if Stiles wanted him to come back early after he'd heard about the craziness at the house, even without the specific details it was clear Scott knew that Stiles had been scared, but Stiles had assured him that he had everything handled. A few minutes later, Derek's phone pinged and he looked over to see Scott's name on the screen.

"Why is my best friend texting you?" Stiles asked, tossing the phone to Derek when he held his hand out, watching his eyes go over the screen and resenting the chuckle that escaped his lips as he looked up at Stiles. "What?"

"He wants to make sure that I don't mind babysitting you," Derek told him and Stiles knew that he wasn't making up the words to get a rise out of Stiles, that his friend had actually referred to keeping Stiles company in such a manner.

"Fucking asshole," he muttered, shooting off a string of middle finger emojis to Scott before tossing his phone aside.

"I thought I was the asshole," Derek teased, tugging the blanket off the bed. "We need to get moving. I figure we should grab something to eat before we head back to the house." He stopped talking when his phone buzzed again. He cursed under his breath and nearly knocked Stiles off the bed with the force that he threw a pile of Stiles' clothes at him. "We gotta go."

Stiles dressed quickly, saving his questions until they were ready and in the car heading back to the house, the plan for food clearly forgotten as they pulled up behind Boyd's pickup truck. "What's going on?" Stiles finally broke the silence as he looked up at the porch where Boyd sat on the top step swinging a ring of keys around his finger.

Derek was out of the car and up the steps, grabbing the keys from Boyd and opening the door to the house quickly, stopping and glaring at Boyd before disappearing inside. Stiles climbed out more slowly and went to stand next to Boyd. "What's going on?" he repeated, hoping to actually get any answer this time.

"My keys wouldn't work," Boyd explained. "I texted Derek to ask if he'd changed the locks for some reason and he told me to wait. I waited."

Stiles looked at him for a moment, realizing that it had been Boyd's keys that Derek had used to open the door, so the keys just hadn’t worked for Boyd. Moving across the threshold, he saw Derek standing at the foot of the stairs, keys in one hand and another file folder in the other. "What?" he asked as the front door slammed shut behind him.

Knocking came from the other side of the door and Stiles grabbed the knob to open it for Boyd, but it wouldn't budge. He twisted the lock on the knob and the deadbolt and pulled again, but nothing. "Go around to the back door!" Stiles shouted and heard a strange sound of agreement before crossing into the kitchen to meet Boyd at the door. He grabbed the knob again with the same results as the front door.

"Shit!" Stiles shouted. "Derek! The house won't let Boyd in."

"I know," Derek said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and shot off a text.

"I'm not leaving you here!" Boyd shouted through the door, voice louder than Stiles had ever heard it, even louder than when he'd dropped a hammer on his foot when he'd tripped over Stiles' backpack a week after they'd moved into the house.

"We'll be fine," Stiles assured, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. Even with the appearance of a new file folder, the presence in the house was different than it had been before, more similar to how he'd felt before Derek had arrived on Thursday night.

"I'm calling the cops!" Boyd shouted and the lights went out.

"Don't!" Stiles responded. "They already think we pull pranks. It won't help. We'll be fine." He repeated the words, less certain this time as Derek came into the room, grabbing Stiles by the wrist and tugging him away from the door. 

"I'm not leaving!" Boyd shouted through the door.

"Good!" Stiles shouted back as Derek pulled him up the stairs to the attic.

Once upstairs, Derek laid the file in his hand on the table, open, and then moved to the wall looking it over and grabbing something before slapping it down on the table next to the folder. Stiles moved to look over his shoulder, eyes widening when he saw a duplicate of the photo they'd found the night before along with one of the photos that had been taken during the interview process.  _ Kate Argent _ was written along the bottom of the photo and on the tab of the folder. 

"That name," Stiles said, tapping his chin before snapping his fingers and reaching for the radio, pressing play. "Her interview was next when we stopped last night." There as something else about the name that struck him as familiar, but he was too focused on Derek’s upset to make a connection.

"I know her," Derek said. "I remember the name. My father told me about her family when she'd come to work at his law firm as an intern."

He dropped into a chair in the corner, a cloud of dust flying up around him. A quick cough was the only indication that he even noticed before putting his face in his hands with a groan. Stiles reached out a hand to run over his shoulder, squeezing firmly until Derek sat up and scrubbed his hands over his face. "She asked me out."

"You were barely eighteen when your parents died," Stiles said. "She looks to be a bit older in that photo."

"She wasn't that much older than me. Probably ten years," he said.

"Um...okay," Stiles said, wondering if Derek was listening to himself but moving on because he could admit that the woman was objectively attractive, but he couldn't help but be bothered by the fact that she kept appearing in the investigation although the photo was a candid, not a mug shot, so she hadn't been a suspect.

"Why was she interviewed?" he asked, cut off by the voice he'd come to know as the Sheriff's filled the room.

“Sheriff Bobby Finstock interview with Hale associate. Please state your name.”

"Kate Argent," she responded, the voice sounding a bit elitist and proper and thoroughly pissed off.

"You work at the law firm where Mr. Hale was employed?" the Sheriff asked.

"You know this, it's why I'm spending my father's birthday in this room instead of visiting him," she snapped, losing a bit of the hoity-toity attitude.

"Speaking of your father," the Sheriff continued and Stiles couldn't help but be impressed that he seemed to have led Kate right to the line of questioning he truly wanted; he'd witnessed his own father do this many times on a suspect and on himself as an out-of-control teenager. "He was once prosecuted by Mr. Hale, wasn't he?"

"Yes. My father has been in prison since I was a teenager because of Mr. Hale," she responded. 

"You sound angry about that."

She scoffed and Stiles felt something crawl up his back. "I'm not angry at Mr. Hale. I'm grateful to him for saving my mother and I from him,” she said in a monotone as if the words had been programmed into her head to spit out when prompted. Her voice changed in tone and grew in agitation as she continued. “But he's a changed man and doesn’t deserve to be in that cell all alone. I'm the only relative that visits him. My brother wrote him off years before he was put in prison." 

"So, did Mrs. Hale's non-profit have anything to do with you being removed from your home?" His voice was careful and Stiles narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what was going on; at that point, the fire had already been ruled an accident but he was treating Kate like a suspect.

"She was called to the school one day when a teacher spotted some bruising from when I'd fallen off my bike and got some idea in their heads that they were my father’s fault," Kate responded, voice growing quiet, tone full of annoyance. "They called my mother in and convinced her to leave my father. The next day we were gone from the home I'd grown up in and stayed with my brother, Chris, and his family in Beacon Hills."

"Beacon Hills?" Stiles said. "I'm from Beacon Hills." He flipped through the file again. "Argent. Chris Argent.” He smacked himself in the forehead with the folder. “Allison. Dammit."

"What?" Derek asked and Stiles turned towards the chair again, surprised to find him sitting stock still, fingers digging into the arms of the chair. 

"I know the family," Stiles said. "Scott used to date Allison Argent in high school. I'm guessing she must be Kate's niece." There was a thud from downstairs and Stiles reached over to stop the cassette player.

"Don't. We need to finish listening," Derek said.

"We need to get out of here," he told Derek. "Gather everything that you can and we'll go stay at your place until we can come back with the supernatural group." 

"No," Derek said firmly. "We need to finish the tape." His voice was distant but firm so he turned his attention back to the tape that had continued playing. Kate was beginning to sound irritated again.

"Look, I want to get to my father before visiting hours are over," she snapped. "Can we wrap this up? I told you that the last time I saw the Hales was at the party."

"Do you know of anyone who would have a grudge against the Hales?" the Sheriff asked and Stiles smiled at his fed-up tone, again reminded of his father.

"I'm sure there's a long list of men whose lives they ruined by tearing apart their family," she said and Stiles wished for the video to go with the audio to confirm the sneer he imagined on her face.

"Would your father be on that list?" 

"My father would probably lead that list," she informed him. "But he's sitting in a prison cell so I'm not sure that his feelings toward the Hales matter at this point."

"What about your feelings?" the Sheriff countered.

There was silence for a long time and Stiles reached for the player to see if the tape had somehow ended, his hand freezing when he heard a tapping sound. It took him a second to identify nails tapping on a tabletop and as soon as he did, Kate spoke again. "If I hated the Hales for ruining my family, would I have gone to work for one of them? Would I have asked their son to accompany me to a party?" 

Stiles looked at Derek who was sinking into himself, knuckles white from gripping the chair and he imagined for a minute what the chair would look like if Derek had claws. "Besides, Sheriff, I thought this was an accident. Isn't that what the report said?" She sounded confident, cocky. Stiles wished he could reach back through time and space to smack her, even if it went against everything in him to strike a woman.

"Sometimes reports are wrong," the Sheriff said and started to speak again when the 'play' button disengaged and Stiles jumped, stumbling backwards and landing at Derek's feet. 

"Okay, now we need to go," Stiles said and looked up at Derek who nodded but didn't move. 

Turning so that he was kneeling in front of him, Stiles put his hands on Derek's knees, squeezing gently. "C'mon, what is it?"

"I told her no." His voice was strained and his hazel eyes swimming with tears. "She asked me to go to the party with her but I'd promised Laura that I'd go to the movies with her. I didn't even offer to go another time, I just said no."

Stiles’ voice cracked as he started to speak so he swallowed and started again. "Dude, this is not your fault. We don't even know if the Sheriff suspected her." Although he said that, he knew the Sheriff did and he wondered if he'd found some kind of proof and was now trying to get them to find it as well. It was clear that Kate hated the Hales, despite the arguments she gave to the contrary in the interview, but emotions were not actions.

They heard someone call their names and that got Stiles to his feet. He tugged Derek to stand and with a gentle push towards the table, Derek began to gather together papers while Stiles snapped pictures of all the things attached to the wall, pulling down every photo that had anything to do with Kate Argent. Once they were done, they made their way down the stairs carefully, finding Boyd standing at the bottom, reaching up to take the papers from Derek. 

"The door just popped open," Boyd said. "I came inside and followed your voices. Who else is up there?"

"No one," Stiles responded. "We were listening to some interview tapes."

"Boyd, take some time off," Derek said, his voice still sounding off and Boyd opened his mouth before snapping it shut again and nodding. "Probably just a week or so. Reschedule any of the outside contractors."

"You got it, boss," Boyd told him and started to walk away but turned back at the last moment. "I don't know what's going on, but I know it's got you rattled." He looked at Stiles, eyes narrowing in study. "Both of you. So, you better call me if you need anything." Derek nodded. "Swear it."

Derek blinked and his eyes became more focused as he nodded again. "I swear." 

Boyd tilted his head, looking Derek over before nodding and pulling him into a bro hug complete with hard slaps to the back. "You, too," he said, pointing at Stiles when the hug ended and Stiles repeated Derek's words, allowing himself to be pulled into the same type of hug.

"Take care of him," Boyd whispered to Stiles and he nodded before slapping Boyd on the shoulder and pulling away, his hand reaching for Derek's.

They locked the door behind themselves before heading to their cars, deciding to take both since Stiles had some errands to run that next day while Derek went to check on a couple of the other properties he was working on and let everyone know he would be taking a few days off. They stood next to their cars and looked back up at the house, freezing when a shadow stood in the window. Boyd's gasp gave them both the confidence they were doing the right thing as they climbed into their cars to drive to Derek's loft.


	8. Chapter Eight

Stiles sat at the table in Derek's kitchen, the light from his phone shining across the file in front of him. He reread every word, making notes on a pad of paper he'd taken of the fridge. He was nearly at the end when the lights hanging over the island flared to life. "Shit," he muttered, hand flying to his chest.

"Sorry," Derek mumbled, shuffling into the kitchen, hair a mess and eyes barely opened. "Thought the light would be better for your eyes."

"Didn't want to wake you." He flipped the folder closed and stretched his arms above his head, the bones in his back popping and releasing the tension he'd been carrying since he'd left Derek sleeping to get a drink of water. He stared at the empty glass on the table realizing he'd never actually filled it before settling in to read the file. 

"Find anything?"

"Actually, yeah," Stiles told him. "If it weren't for my uncontrollable fidgeting, I might have missed it." He took his thumbnail and ran it along the edge of the file, peeling it open to reveal a sim card attached to it. "I need to call my buddy Danny when the sun comes up, he'll have something I can use to check out what's on the card."

"You have class today, right?" Derek asked, moving to the coffee machine and turning it on.

Yawning, Stiles tipped his head from side to side, fingers running over the sim card again. "Kind of," he muttered. "I think I might skip my eight am though. The lectures are recorded so I can check it out later. My noon class was cancelled because the professor's sick and the TA is lazy. Normally I work on Mondays, but the coffee shop is closed for renovations." He yawned again. "So, I really don't need to go anywhere today."

"Well, I still need to go talk to my clients," Derek explained, moving to pull mugs out of the cupboards while the coffee brewed. "I should be done by noon."

"I'm not sure what Danny's schedule is like, but I'll try to set up to meet him around then." Stiles rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the exhaustion that fought hard to take over as he watched Derek move about the kitchen.

"Maybe you should get some more sleep, then," Derek suggested. "It's only two." He sounded surprised and he grabbed the coffee carafe off the machine pouring the liquid down the sink ignoring Stiles' squawk of protest. "Back to bed. At least three more hours."

Stiles wrapped his hands around the edge of the table, stubbornness kicking in as Derek wrapped hands around the back of the chair to pull it away from the table with Stiles still on it. He only succeeded in moving the table across the floor with a loud screech. Derek chuckled and pulled again, the table scraping and Stiles chuckling, fully confident Derek would give up before destroying his floor.

Instead, Derek dug his fingers into Stiles' sides causing him to let go of the table and jump to his feet. He'd barely caught his own balance when Derek grabbed him up and threw him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "I won," he said as he marched Stiles back to his bedroom and dropped him onto the bed.

His body started to melt into the mattress before he could form an objection and sleep took him in the time it took Derek to turn off the lights around him. 

The sun was in the sky when Stiles woke again, Derek gone from the loft, a note stuck to the coffee machine and a key for Stiles next to it. Smiling, Stiles pocketed the key and pulled out his phone, two missions on his mind; first, he was going to call Danny and then his dad.

The idea to contact his dad had come to him while he'd been sleeping. If Kate Argent was in Beacon Hills when Stiles was a kid, as that's when the interview had happened, his father was a deputy so he might remember the other Sheriff contacting the department. It was a long shot, but this entire adventure had been full of them. He also felt bad because he hadn't talked to his dad since before Scott had left and they normally checked in every other day at the most.

Danny responded quickly that he was busy all day but if Stiles met him on campus before his classes, he had a USB sim card reader that he could borrow. He only had fifteen minutes to get to campus so he dressed quickly and hurried over, catching Danny just as he was about to give up and go into his class. "Thanks, man!" he said, grabbing the reader and giving Danny a quick hug before pulling back and giving him a wink. "So, Danny..."

"Dude, let it go," Danny said, laughing and turning to go into the lecture hall.

Stiles shook his head and called out after Danny the same question he'd been asking him since he'd figured out he was bisexual in high school. "Am I attractive to gay guys?" Danny flipped him off over his shoulder as another guy in the class turned and winked as he nodded.

Stunned, Stiles gave a wave and ran out of the building, eager to get back to Derek's loft to check out what the Sheriff had hidden so carefully. He'd just settled down when his phone rang. He smiled at his dad's picture on the screen. "Hey, Daddio!" he said.

"Hey, son," Sheriff John Stilinski responded, voice patient as it always was, filling Stiles with a comforting warmth he always associated with home and family; a feeling that was similar to the one he'd felt when he'd woke up with Derek the other morning, but that was something to deal with later. "Just calling to check in with you."

Stiles was plugging in the reader and booting up his computer, phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear. "Doing good. Classes are good. How about you? Sticking to your diet?"

"How's the house?" his father asked, skipping the question completely and Stiles laughed imagining the amount of junk food he'd be clearing out of the cupboards the next time he went home for a visit.

"Funny you should ask. Seems the strange goings on might be ghost-related after all," he said, tapping his fingers on the table as the computer loaded before he put the sim card into the reader. The snort from the other end was indulgent and paternal. "I know you think I'm crazy..." He trailed off as he tapped the file next to the computer.

"I don't think you're crazy. Your mom believed in the supernatural." The confession was quiet, almost lost in the white noise of the telephone; they didn't talk about his mom very often. 

The silence stretched for a minute, both of them lost in their memories before Stiles cleared his throat. "Hey, dad, did you ever hear of a sheriff named Finstock?"

"Huh, that's weird you would ask. I had a Sheriff Finstock contact me a couple of months ago," his dad said. "Weird guy. Like a dog with a bone when he got an idea."

His dad had no idea. Stiles thought about the length Finstock seemed to be going through even beyond the grave to solve this case. "Can you tell me about that bone?"

He heard the shuffling of papers. "It actually involved that girl Scott dated's family. The Argents." More shuffling as Stiles' screen filled with files each named with the file number and date, some of the dates as recent as six months earlier. He clicked on the earliest of the most recent as his father started speaking again. "He was actually looking into Allison's aunt. Kate. He wanted to reopen a cold case and was hoping that there was something on record for the time she lived here as a teenager."

"Was there?" Stiles asked.

"Son..."

"I know. I know. You can't give me details of an active...Wait, this is an active investigation again?" Stiles asked, excited that maybe his dad was on the case.

"I know that Finstock said he was going to talk to his old station about reopening it and I think he had a pretty solid case." He cleared his throat. "I'm not sure if he had the chance. He passed away a few days after he was here."

"Wait, you met him?" Stiles asked as the PDF finally loaded, his breath escaping him. 

"Just briefly. He stopped by the office and left some files with me for safekeeping. Not sure why he felt it was necessary, but he was adamant," he said. "Son, what's wrong?"

"Um...Derek knew Finstock as well. He was investigating his parents' deaths," Stiles explained, eyes scanning the screen in front of him, his heart rate picked up and he put the phone on speaker to text Derek to come home immediately. "I think...we think that it's his ghost haunting the house."

"Son..."

"Look, dad. Kate's father was Gerard Argent, right?" His father hesitated. "Dad...I could just google it."

He sighed. "It was. He passed away a little less than a year ago in prison. Cancer, before you ask."

"Okay," Stiles said. "Okay...I don't think Finstock was crazy. I've got to go." He started to hang up the phone but his father shouting stopped him and he brought the phone back to his ear.

"I don't know what's going on, but if this is serious, you need to contact the police. You can't keep trying to solve every mystery you come across. This isn't high school and who stole the Lacrosse money anymore, kiddo."

"I know, dad. I know," Stiles said.

"Just be safe," his father reminded. "I love you."

"Love you too, pops," Stiles said and hung up as he continued to read the PDF in front of him. 

Once he was done, he moved to the next one, drinking in every word, his heartbeat picking up as excitement filled him. 

He was pacing when Derek arrived home, throwing the door open with a bit too much strength so that it bounced back and would have crushed him if he hadn't already raced through to Stiles' side, grabbing him by the biceps and looking him up and down. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I'm better than alright. So much better," Stiles said, pulling him to the table and pushing Derek into the chair where he'd been sitting for the past several hours. "I borrowed a sim card reader from Danny and just the few files I've read might be enough." He reached over Derek's folder and opened the one that he thought was the most important. "This is a letter from Kate's father, Gerard Argent."

"He was in prison for beating her and her mother, right?" Derek asked and Stiles nodded. 

"Apparently he had denied it until his dying day or at least until he wrote this letter," Stiles explained. "He confesses and goes on to talk about the mental abuse he’d inflicted on his daughter as well, brainwashing her into believing he wasn't abusive. He ends the letter stating pretty clearly that Kate confessed to him that she'd killed your parents to avenge him."

"What?" Derek asked, his eyes skimming over the letter before turning back to Stiles, eyes wide. "Why wouldn't he have turned this over to the department?"

"I don't know," Stiles said. "The letter is addressed to Sheriff Finstock directly and he was retired by that point, so I don't know if Gerard thought that confessing to him wouldn't lead to a case but he was still able to get it off his chest. Die with a clean conscience."

"Good for him," Derek sneered. "Hope he rots in hell."

"Agreed," Stiles said. "Maybe now we can get her to rot in prison. We just have to figure out..." he trailed off as Derek clicked on a file he hadn't gotten to yet. It was a file that started with, "To whoever is reading this, please pass this information onto Derek Hale..." It continued with Derek's address.

"If you're reading this, chances are good that I am dead. I spent the last decade of my life trying to solve a mystery and when I did, I very likely signed my own death warrant. Kate Argent is responsible for the deaths of Talia and Andrew Hale, of this I am convinced and based on a letter sent to me from the death bed or her father, Gerard Argent, and additional investigations, I believe that I have enough proof," Derek read aloud, looking back at Stiles.

"I took the files to Sheriff Deucalion who took over after my retirement. He claimed the letters were a last-ditch attempt by a mad man to create chaos in the wake of his death and refused to look at the rest of my investigation. I left copies of my files, save the sim card you are reading this off of, with the Sheriff of Beacon County, a man I have admired since he was a deputy when this case first started and put up with what he probably considered the ramblings of a mad man," Stiles continued.

"The Sheriff was crazy," Derek said, his voice fond. "He would go on rants about anything that tickled his fancy." He smiled up at Stiles. "Reminds me of someone, actually."

"If he weren't such a badass ghost, I would be offended," Stiles said, laughing. "I need my dad to bring me those files." He picked his phone up to text his father and smiled when he saw a text from his father already waiting.  _ Send me Derek's address. _ "I have a feeling he's already sending them." He sent off a text anyway about the files and laughed when his dad sent back an eye-rolling emoji.

Derek looked at the time on the computer. "We have time to grab dinner before the PIE meeting," he suggested. 

Stiles hesitated. He really wanted to read the rest of the letter and continue investigating the files on the sim card. He even considered heading back to the house to grab every last bit of the boxes that the Sheriff had sent to Derek, but he could tell that Derek was eager to get away and process everything they'd just learned. "I could eat. Diner?"

Derek nodded. "Should probably check in with Erica. Let her know we're both still alive."


	9. Chapter Nine

The PIE meeting was held in the basement of the student center on campus and when Derek and Stiles arrived, there were already ten students milling around. They'd only taken two steps into the room when a young man with black hair pulled up into topknot approached them, hand out and a smile on his face. "Greetings and welcome to Paranormal Investigation Experts. I'm Javadd, one of the founders."

"Hey, man," Stiles said, taking his hand and admiring the tattoos that wound up the younger man's arm. "Nice to meet you. Deaton sent us to see you."

"Ah, you must be Derek and Stiles," another young man said, approaching them with his hand out. "I'm James, the other founder of the group." He was the exact opposite of Javadd, light where he was dark, muscular where Javadd was sinewy and yet there was an aura between them that made Stiles grin and look over to Derek who was already smiling back even as he shook James' hand.

"So, you think your residence is haunted?" Javadd asked. "Has there ever been any violent deaths there?" 

Stiles waited for Derek to answer but when he looked at the older man, his eyes were wide and darting around the other students in the room that were moving closer to them, creating a small circle around them.

"Derek's parents were killed in a fire, but -"

"The Hale fire?" a girl with long red hair asked, head tilted in question.

"Yes," Stiles answered, his smile tight as she nodded, eyes far too knowing for his liking. "However, we're not entirely sure his parents are the only ones haunting the house."

"Another violent death?" James asked. "Perhaps before they lived there?"

Derek seemed to come back to himself with that question. "Another death, but I'm not entirely sure it was violent and it didn't happen at the house."

"It's unusual for a spirit to haunt a location they didn't die in," the redhead said again.

"Unusual, but not unheard of," Javadd said, looking over at her. "Lydia, be nice to our guests." The redhead sniffed and threw her hair over her shoulder. "You'll have to excuse her, she's the one who came up with the 'experts' part of our name. She's also our resident psychic."

Stile scoffed, earning a glare from Lydia and he ducked his head in apology. "I suppose if I'm now believing in ghosts, psychics aren't so out of the realm of possibility."

"Deaton mentioned that you might be willing to come out to the house to do an investigation,” Derek said, dispelling the tension building in the room. “How soon can you do it?”

“It’ll take us at least a couple of days to get the equipment. We borrow everything from the school and need at least twenty-four hour’s notice, so the earliest would be Wednesday night,” Javadd said, apologetically. 

“But Lydia could come by the house and get a feel for it,” James suggested.

“Not tonight,” she said. “I have a date.” She tilted her head studying both of them. “But, as long as your father doesn’t mind, I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“My father?” Derek asked pointing to himself, confusion twisting his face. 

“No. Yours,” she said, pointing at Stiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eight.” With those parting words, she left the room, the group staring after her.

“What the hell does my father have to do with anything?” Stiles wondered aloud as the group spread out through the room.

The next afternoon, Stiles found out what Lydia had meant when he returned from class to find his father sitting on the stairs leading up to Derek’s building, three large boxes sitting next to his feet. “Pops!”

“Hey, son,” John said, rising and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. “You need to come home more often. We miss you around Beacon Hills.”

Stiles blinked back tears as he held on tight, unashamed of the act of affection being witnessed by people going in and out of the building; he missed his father. “What are you doing here?”

“What? Can’t a father visit his son?” 

“You don’t pull off innocent as well as I do,” Stiles said, tapping a foot against the stack of boxes.

“You don’t pull off innocent at all, so I must be truly awful,” he teased. “Gonna help me with these boxes? I buzzed Derek’s loft but no one answered.”

After checking his watch, he pulled out his phone to shoot off a text to Derek. As he was about to hit send on an inquiry to his whereabouts, a text from Derek came through telling him he was picking up subs for lunch. He texted back telling him to get one for his dad as well and then pocketed the phone, ignoring the string of question mark filled texts that came through.

“So, what’s in the boxes?” Stiles asked as he let his dad into the loft, ignoring the look he got when he pulled out his key.

“Case files and other things that were delivered to the station from Sheriff Finstock,” his dad explained. “After your call yesterday, I dug them out and started going through them. I made a phone call to the current Sheriff; I think his name was Duke or something, at least that’s what he told me to call him. When I asked about the case, he acted like he’d never heard of it.”

“That’s a lie!” Stiles shouted, startling his father. “Finstock left a letter stating he’d taken copies of his files to Deucalion.” 

“I suspected as much,” John said. “Something bothered me by his answer, so I called one of his deputies. Parish? Do you remember him? Worked a couple years for us.”

“Jordan, yeah. He was cool,” Stiles said, trying to fight back a flush as he remembered the tiny crush he’d developed on the young deputy.

“And cute too, right?” John teased, moving out of the way of Stiles’ slapping hands. “Anyway, I called him up and he remembered seeing Finstock and hearing an argument between the two men.”

“Great sheriff there,” Stiles muttered, flipping through the first file he pulled out recognizing most of the papers from the files they’d taken from Derek’s basement. There was an added bonus of transcripts of the interviews with notations.

“Well, Parish also let slip that there might be an impeachment in the works so he asked that if something comes of this that we pass along reports of Duke’s neglect of duty.”

“Definitely,” Stiles agreed as he continued flipping through the files until he found the transcript of Kate’s interview, remembering that it had cut off when they’d been at the house. He flipped to the end of it as the loft door opened again.

Both men looked up to see Derek standing in the doorway, arms full and a stunned expression on his face which disappeared quickly, hidden behind a blank one as Derek strode towards the kitchen. “Hello, sir,” he greeted John before turning to Stiles, eyes wide and lip curled in upset. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Stiles responded, reaching for the bags. “Look who  _ surprised _ me. At least now we know what Lydia was talking about.”

“Who’s Lydia?” John asked, picking up the files on the table before yanking the one out of Stiles’ hands and putting everything back in the box.

“The PIE psychic,” Stiles responded, going into the cupboards and drawers to get glasses and silverware, feeling his father’s eyes on him as he moved through the kitchen without hesitation. Derek moved closer to the counter as Stiles squeezed past to get napkins from the pantry. He couldn’t imagine what his father was thinking but it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t sleep and had explored the entire kitchen the night before to find the glasses.

“She tells you how a pie is feeling or which kind you like?” he questioned as he settled into one of the chairs at the table, taking the sandwich Derek offered him with a smile.

They settled around the table before Stiles responded. “P-I-E. Paranormal Investigation Experts,” he clarified before explaining what they were and how he and Derek had become acquainted with the group.

John was silent as they ate and Derek kept shooting Stiles panicked looks, but he knew that his father was deep in thought. They’d spent many evenings at the dinner table discussing things that would lead to a similar situation so Stiles just waited him out, trying to reassure Derek by tapping his foot against his, but that only managed to make Derek jump in his seat each time until Stiles had to hide his face in his hands to hide his laughter.

“I’m going with you to the house,” John finally announced as they’d finished eating and cleaning up the table. “I’m not a huge believer in the supernatural, but something is clearly going on there and I want to take a look for myself.” He looked at Derek and Stiles who were leaned against the counter next to each other, arms crossed as they exchanged doubtful looks. “I’m also going to figure out what’s going on here.”

Stiles sputtered and Derek turned pink. “What makes you-” Stiles started.

“There’s nothing-” Derek tried.

John made a doubtful sound as he picked the file boxes back up and brought them to the table. “We still have a couple of hours until we need to meet your psychic friend, so why don’t you share what you know and I’ll add anything I know that you don’t.”

Standing around the table, they got to work. Stiles finding the transcript he’d been looking at when Derek had arrived. He found the page and where they left off. His eyes scanned the page before he started talking. "So, the Sheriff told Kate back in her original interview that he believed their deaths were not an accident. She asked if he suspected her and he asked if he should. She requested that the interview was over until she could contact a lawyer."

"And he dropped it?" Derek demanded.

"Hey, the lawyer card is nasty, Derek," Stiles said, reaching over to squeeze Derek's shoulder where he was seated in the chair.

"Son, you would've lost your greatest ally if he'd pushed forward with the interview after she'd requested a lawyer," John assured him. "So, you think he suspected her from day one?" He flipped through a couple more files. "I have to admit that what is in these file folders is pretty circumstantial."

Derek's shoulders drooped, but Stiles squeezed it again. "We have more," he reminded Derek before stepping away to get his laptop and bringing it back to his father. He explained about the sim card hidden in the folder and showed him the letter from the Sheriff.

"Well, damn," John said when he was done reading through the different files on the computer. "You definitely have enough to reopen the case, but it looks like we will have to work around Duke." He pulled his phone out, face thoughtful before he sent a text. "Give me a couple of days. I might be able to figure something out."

"Thank you, sir," Derek said. "Thank you for believing us and not thinking we're totally crazy." 

"Not  _ totally _ crazy," he teased. "I still need to see the house and meet your ghosts."

"Well, we still have an hour until Lydia is supposed to get there, but we can head over early. It's not like we don't have keys," Stiles suggested. "Plus I need to get some more clothes."

"You are staying here, then," John asked, his eyes going over to the sofa and then to the stairs leading up to Derek's bedroom. 

"Daaaad," Stiles whined. Derek stood and left the room without a word but Stiles spotted the pink tips of his ears before he was up the stairs and out of view. "Look, dad. Right now, Derek and I are friends with maybe the possibility of more, so can you just lay off a little bit?"

John stared at him, eyes searching his face before he nodded. "Alright. I'll stop with the comments."

"Thank-" Stiles started, but John held up a hand, interrupting his expression of gratitude.

"I'll stop after I tell you, and perhaps him, that if something develops between the two of you beyond friendship, he is expected to do a proper 'meet the father' dinner at the house so I can intimidate him with my gun." John smirked, an expression that he'd clearly passed onto his son, as Stiles groaned, slapping a hand over his face.

"You mean you didn't bring it with you?" Derek asked from the doorway, startling both of the men.

"I did, but until I have a reason to threaten you, I'll leave it in its holster," John said, smiling when Derek gave a curt nod. "I like you."

"And on that completely awkward note..." Stiles said.

"We'll head over to the house," Derek finished for him, sharing a smile behind John's back as he headed for the doorway.

Taking all three vehicles, they formed a caravan, losing Derek who had taken up the rear at a light about halfway there. They reached the house around seven-thirty. Stiles was surprised to see a small blue car parked in front of the house, but the surprise quickly disappeared when Lydia stepped out, watching them with her hands on her hips. Of course, she knew that they were going to be early. "Dad, this is Lydia," he introduced after they'd gotten out of the car and approached her. "The psychic from Paranormal Investigation Experts."

"The pie girl," he affirmed and Stiles nodded while Lydia rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, approaching the house, stopping at the bottom of the stairs.

"Home sweet home," Stiles said, putting a foot on the bottom step, stilling when Lydia placed a hand on his arm. "What?"

"I can't go in," she said, frowning. 

"Why not?" John asked as Derek finally pulled up in front of the house and hurried out of his car to join them.

She shook her head. "It's not malevolent, but the spirit..." She tilted her head, eyes going out of focus for a moment before continuing. "Sorry, the  _ spirits _ don't want me to come in." She blinked and looked at Stiles. "I'm sorry."

"Are the boys in danger?" John asked.

"Not from the spirits in the house," Lydia said cryptically before turning on her heel and heading towards her car. "I'll come back with the others tomorrow to try again."

The men stared after her until her car had disappeared around the corner. John was the first one to move, heading up the stairs toward the front door and holding out a hand for the key. "If the ghosts don't want me coming in, they can give me a sign," he said, rolling his eyes and freezing when there was a click of a lock turning and the door opened in front of him.

"Looks like a proverbial welcome mat to me," Stiles said heading up the stairs, pausing for a moment when Derek's hand twisted into the back of his shirt. 

Entering the house slowly, John in the lead, hand over his belt where his gun is normally located, they stood in the foyer for a moment, anticipation thrumming between the three of them. As the minutes ticked by and nothing more happened, they all relaxed. Derek turned to close the door, locking it and hanging his keys on the hook next to it. John reached over his shoulder and hung his as well.

"So, are you going to give me the grand tour?" he asked and Derek led the way, Stiles following until they reached his room where he hurried in to straighten up a bit since he was going to offer his bed to his father while he and Derek camped out on the floor. Derek hesitated, looking between Stiles and his father, but the older man drew him into a conversation about the crown molding in the hallway and in a moment they were leaving Stiles alone.

The room was pretty much as they'd left it except that all of the drawers in the dresser were pulled out and the clothing in disarray. Stiles approached slowly, trying to remember if he'd left them like that in his hurry to pack up and get to Derek's and away from the house. As he rearranged the clothing and shut the drawers, he'd pretty much convinced himself that was what had happened. 

He'd just finished straightening the drawers and moved to the closet to grab his sleeping bag out to throw it on the floor next to Derek's when the smell hit him. It was the stringent floral scent they'd smelled in Derek's parents' room and it grew stronger the closer to the closet he got until he had to lay a hand over his nose to hold back a gag. Backing away from the closet, he made his way to the hallway. He heard movement above him and went to the attic steps, assuming his father and Derek were up looking at what was left of their investigation board.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he found the room empty and the floral scent faint in the air. Shaking his head, he made his way down the steps before heading to the first floor and finding the other two men at the kitchen table with beers in their hands. "Hey, son. I was just telling Derek that the house is coming along nicely."

Derek's eyes flew to Stiles when he didn't respond. "What happened?" he asked, jumping to his feet and grabbing Stiles by the arm, leading him to the table and pushing him into a chair.

"Nothing. Not really," Stiles said. "The smell is really strong in my room and I thought I heard someone in the attic." There was a crash from the basement. 

"You must be right about something," Derek observed.

"What makes you say that?" John asked. He'd remained in his chair but had leaned forward over the table watching the two of them through narrowed eyes.

"It seems whenever we say something that's important, we get noise from the basement," Derek answered, rubbing a hand up and down Stiles' back. Another rattle from the basement sounded as he finished speaking. "That's where I stored all of the files from the Sheriff which is why we think that it's him down there." Another crash.

"I think we need to go down," John suggested and Stiles shook his head. "Son."

"No. There was no crash when you said that, so we don't need to go," he argued. "We can just go upstairs, put a movie on my laptop and get some sleep." He nodded. "Yep, that's what we can do."

"Are you scared?" John asked, moving to Stiles' side across from Derek. "Do you want to go back to Derek's?"

"No. No, I want to stay here," Stiles said, voice steely with determination. "I have to start staying here again and it's easier with the company." He looked at Derek who smiled. "That's how Derek and I started growing closer. He came to stay with me the first night Scott was gone."

"I don't think the ghosts are trying to hurt us," Derek offered, stopping anything else Stiles had to say from coming out of his mouth. He thought about it and realized that Derek was right. 

"They're trying to tell you something?" John asked and both of the young men nodded. "When did all of this  _ ghostly _ activity start?"

"It's hard to say," Derek began. "No one has actually lived in the house until Stiles and Scott moved in and we'd only been working on remodeling for a couple of months before that."

"Boyd said the house wasn't haunted when we moved in," Stiles reminded, making a mental note to give Boyd a swift kick in the shins the next time he saw him or maybe just have Erica do it.

"Other than the lights going off with no explanation, we didn't have any signs and that didn't start until..." He paused, smiling. "Until I brought the boxes from the Sheriff. It  _ is _ Finstock." The loudest crash they'd heard yet echoed up from the basement, accompanied by the lights flashing off and then on.


	10. Chapter Ten

The next morning, Stiles woke up early to take his father to the diner for breakfast while Derek went to meet with his sisters and Uncle Peter for their bi-monthly breakfast; he'd told Stiles he wasn't going to say anything to them about the ghosts, knowing that it would only upset his sisters. He'd grinned when his father had used a handshake to pull Derek into a hug, startling the young man. His father reminded Stiles that he could come home for a visit anytime, as long as he brought Derek, and then promised to call as soon as he figured out what they could do with the information without going through Deucalion.

He'd been sad watching his father drive off, glad to have had some time spent with him even if it mostly revolved around the house and everything going on with the case. Once his father was safely on the road, Stiles went in search of his car keys, remembering having left them in his duffel bag the night before when he was packing. He grabbed the bag and looked through it, finding only his clothes. Then he hurried down the stairs and laughed when he saw them hanging on the hooks by the door. "Thanks, Finstock or Mrs. Hale," he called out, laughing louder when the lights flashed at him and the front door opened. 

He had just enough time to get to campus, park and get to class as the professor was closing the door. Danny waved at him from the middle of the room while Stiles took his place at the back. The class went quickly as he texted with Derek for a few minutes agreeing to meet for lunch at the coffee shop on campus. He slipped his phone back into his pocket just as the professor called on him.

Stiles hurried into the coffee shop where he was meeting Derek for lunch, running late after being stopped by Danny after class asking after his sim card reader. After spending ten minutes reassuring Danny that he’d be returning it very soon and no he hadn’t broken it thank you very much, he ended up being stopped by several other students as he'd made his way across campus to his car. Then an accident had caused a traffic backup for two blocks and he was sure that Derek would be sitting at a table, fingers tapping on the surface by the time he raced into the shop. Thankfully, a quick glance around told him that Derek hadn’t arrived yet either so he approached the counter to place their orders.

As he waited, looking over the chalkboard menu above the counter at that day’s specials, the skin on the back of his neck prickled like someone was staring at him. Assuming it was Derek, he turned to find the space behind him empty. Glancing around quickly, his eyes fell on a woman in a black hoodie sitting at a back table, turned around in her chair facing him. As soon as their eyes met, she dropped her gaze and grabbed her purse off the back of the chair. After a moment she pulled out a gold tube and compact. As she turned her back on Stiles and lifted the mirror to apply the dark lipstick, something familiar tickled at the corners of Stiles’ mind but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

His attention was pulled away by the barista calling for his attention; he spent enough time here that she knew his name. He opened his mouth to order when Derek hurried in, apologizing and barking out his order before apologizing again when the barista gave him an unimpressed look. He tried to argue when Derek pulled out his wallet and waved off Stiles' attempts to pay his share. He continued to argue as they moved to the side to wait for their orders, Stiles glanced back over to where the woman was sitting, finding her seat empty. "Fuck," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, placing a hand on Stiles' lower back to pull him closer as a couple moved over to wait for their orders. 

"There was a woman sitting over there watching me earlier," Stiles said.

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Well, you are pretty cute," he responded, teasing smile on his face.

"Shut up," Stiles said, slapping Derek on the shoulder and freezing when Derek quirked an eyebrow. "Wait, you're serious?" Derek shrugged, turning away. "Oh. Well...you're...well, you're all that," he said, gesturing to Derek's everything.

"And a bag of chips?" Derek teased.

"Oh? Did you want chips?" the barista asked where she was standing at the counter holding their tray of food.

"No. No," Stiles assured her, grabbing the tray and heading over to a table, Derek following still snickering under his breath. "Shut up."

They settled down at the table to eat their food. "So, there was a woman staring at you..." Derek prompted.

"Yeah. She had a black hoodie pulled up so I could barely see her face, but there was something familiar about her," Stiles told him. He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as Derek picked at his salad. After a few bites, Stiles shrugged and swallowed. "She might be from one of my classes, but she seemed older, like in her forties older."

"There's a lot of non-traditional students at the university. I was looking into going back for another degree in Education so I can do something with my degree," Derek explained.

"You want to be a teacher?" Stiles asked, surprised and picturing having him for a teacher; he might actually have attended all of his classes if his teachers were as hot as Derek.

"I've been thinking about it for a few years." He put his fork down and ran his hands over his face. "You're the first person I've told."

"Well, I think that's a great idea," Stiles encouraged. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

As their conversation continued, focused around the university and Derek going back to school, Stiles' mind kept going back to the woman trying to place her or convince himself he was imagining things. He pictured her putting lipstick on again and had a sense of deja vu, but didn't know why. He must've fallen silent because Derek reached out to touch his arm.

"Alright?" he asked, brows narrowed and eyes soft.

"Yeah. Just have a lot on my mind," Stiles explained looking down at their empty plates. "Want anything else?"

Derek shook his head. "I was thinking we could go to a movie. Kill time before we meet up with PIE."

“Yeah, sounds like a plan,” Stiles responded, studying Derek’s face as he started to gather together the trash on the table. He wondered if this was a date or just spending time together as friends. It’s not like they hadn’t been hanging out nearly constantly for a week now or that Stiles had practically moved into his loft, but Derek had paid for lunch and now they were going to a movie.

“Ready?” Derek asked, startling Stiles from his thoughts.

"Yeah," he said, pushing back his chair sending it backwards and would've gone with it if Derek hadn't reached out and grabbed him, pulling him to his feet so they were standing close together. Stiles’ eyes flashed between Derek's eyes and lips, licking his own and hoping he wasn't imagining the way that Derek watched the movement.

"Excuse me?" someone asked from beside them, interrupting the moment. "Are you leaving? Can we have this table?"

Stiles fought every instinct not to scream at the woman that had ruined what could have been a really great first kiss. When he focused on the harried-looking woman, a fussy baby on one hip and a toddler tugging at her pant leg while she juggled a tray of food and drinks, he was glad he held back. Instead, he reached out for the tray and put it on the table for her while Derek pulled out a chair, helping the toddler climb up into the chair while the mother sat down and wrestled a bottle out of the gigantic diaper bag that had been over her shoulder. 

"Thank you," she said and they both nodded, Stiles smiling when Derek put a straw into the juice box on the tray and handed it to the toddler after a nod from the mother.

They left after a couple of minutes of cooing at the baby and small talk with the mother, making their way to Derek's car, choosing to leave Stiles' Jeep on campus where he'd parked it earlier and pick it up after the movie or even the next morning depending on the amount of time between the movie and meeting PIE. It was a quick drive to the cinema and there was a new superhero movie starting shortly so they chose to go see that. Once again, Derek beat Stiles to his wallet at the ticket counter and the concession stands even though Derek only ordered a bottle of water while Stiles had wanted a large popcorn and soda combo with a sour gummy worm add-on.

"Dude, this is starting to feel like a date," he said as they found seats right in the middle of the theatre. When Derek didn't answer right away, he turned to look at him and saw his jaw was clenched and eyes glued to the screen. "Or not."

Silence stretched between them. Uncomfortable silence that Stiles hated in general and wasn't used to with Derek. Just before the previews started, Stiles was ready to jump out of his seat and walk back to his Jeep and drive home to Beacon Hills and drop out of college to avoid having to see Derek ever again, but a hand covering his on the armrest stopped him. Without looking down, he flipped his own hand over to allow Derek to tangle their fingers together without drawing any more attention to the move.

By the time the credits rolled, Stiles didn't have much of an idea what had happened in the movie other than half of the good guys dissolving into dust, because he'd spent the entire movie aware of Derek next to him. He'd remained tense for the first half-hour before finally relaxing enough so that their shoulders pressed together and about halfway through, his head lolled a few times before coming to rest on Stiles' shoulder. Soft breaths blew across his neck and he fought off a shiver in an attempt to avoid waking Derek up.

They were still sitting like that when the credits ended and the lights came up. Carefully, Stiles rolled his shoulder, jostling Derek just enough that he jerked upright, blinking sleepily at his surroundings. Eyes finally came to rest on Stiles who was grinning. "Was it really that bad?" he asked.

Derek shook his head. "Guess I was more tired than I thought," he said, stretching his arms above his head, the leather of his jacket he'd never removed creaking. As his arms dropped, he checked his watch, eyes widening. "We've got to go. We'll have to get your Jeep tomorrow."

Moving quickly, they made their way to the car and back to the house, pulling into the driveway at the same time as Lydia's car and a small SUV. Javadd and James exited the front of the SUV, a couple of other PIE members spilling out of the back and going around to unload equipment from the rear while the founders approached Derek and Stiles, Lydia joining them on the way.

"Lydia told us she felt something when she was here yesterday," Javadd greeted them and Derek nodded.

"Feeling more welcome today?" Stiles asked Lydia who looked thoughtful and then confused before her lips twisted into a soft smile.

"I have a feeling tonight is going to start out as a bit of a disappointment," she said and then tilted her head, making a soft questioning sound before shaking her head and focusing on them again. "Your father had a nice visit?" 

Stiles laughed uncomfortably. "He did. Got to experience a bit of the goings-on."

"Anything new?" James asked and Derek shook his head.

"Actually..." Stiles started, remembering the morning. "The ghost seems to be communicating a little more with the lights, flashing in response to questions and being helpful."

"Helpful?" Javadd asked as Derek asked, "What are you talking about?"

"This morning, I couldn't find my keys. Not in a 'they were there and then they weren't' type of way, in an 'I honestly can't remember the last time I saw them' type of way. I said something about it and then heard jingling and they were hanging on the hook by the door. When I thanked the ghost, the lights flickered. The door also opened for me," Stiles explained.

"Like it opened for your dad last night," Derek said.

"Lots of activity," Javadd said and James rubbed his hands together as the other two members of PIE joined them, loaded down with equipment. "These are Will and Ed. You didn't meet them the other night, but they are the best at handling the equipment so we called them."

Introductions were made and then they turned to face the house. "You ready for this?" Stiles asked Derek, knowing that they might find out if it actually was the Sheriff and his parents haunting the house or just a bunch of crazy coincidences. Derek nodded but didn't move so Stiles took his hand, squeezing gently and offering a reassuring smile when Derek looked at him.

"Let's do this," Derek said, taking a step towards the house.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The house was quiet when they stepped inside, the light switch working properly and lighting up the foyer. They hung their keys on the rack by the door, watching Lydia wander off into the house. "Guess she doesn't want the grand tour," Stiles muttered, wondering if he or Derek should go with her but when Derek's hand tightened on his, he decided she would be fine on her own.

"So, the activity is pretty much spread through the entire house?" Javadd asked. "Just so we can get an idea of where to set up a base station."

"A lot in the basement. We keep seeing the woman in what was my parents' bedroom," Derek explained. "I don't think you should set up there; it's got a giant hole in the floor." He looked towards the doors to the library. "Maybe the library? There's still a lot of debris from the fire, but you won’t fall through the floor."

"Actually," James interrupted. "It'd be better if we set up in a less active location so the ghosts don't drain our batteries or interfere with the main equipment. We'll explore the other spaces you mentioned with the handhelds."

"Oh, then the kitchen?" Derek said, looking at Stiles questioningly.

"Dining room," Stiles countered. "I don't think anything has happened in there."

It took some time to get things set up in the dining room and Stiles stayed with Will as he set up there, Derek moving through the house with Ed to install cameras in a couple of key locations. They hadn't seen Lydia since they'd gotten there, but she reappeared just before they powered up the main equipment. 

"Anything?" Stiles asked.

"Not much, actually. I think they're hiding from us," she said. "Wouldn't be the first time, especially if they are trying to communicate with you."

They moved through the house in small groups, videotaping and audio recording. The group asking questions and waiting for a response that would hopefully show up later on the recordings. Stiles found it all fascinating and wondered if the group would be willing to let him join once all the craziness was over. All in all, nothing overt happened and Stiles even asked nicely for a light flicker. When they gathered back in the dining room where Ed had spent most of the evening listening and watching the camera feeds, he shook his head sadly.

"I told you it wouldn't be exciting," Lydia said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I think they don't want the attention right now." She looked at Stiles. "They trust you, so they let us in, but they don't trust us."

Stiles looked thoughtful. "Do you think they’re afraid you'll bring attention to the house? Crowds and such?" Lydia shrugged.

Derek stood from where he'd settled at the head of the table and walked into the foyer. "Okay, Finstock," he called out. "I know you have a weird sense of humor, so I get it. Just stay quiet." Stiles laughed at Derek, the sound dying when he saw tears in his eyes. "Dad, mom, if you're really here, these are students. They want to learn and you can help them. You can help us."

Stiles smile grew as he realized what Derek was doing. "Mrs. Hale," he called out. "I'm Stiles, perhaps you've noticed me tripping around the house." The lights flickered and he grinned at Derek who let out a sigh of relief. "These students aren’t doing this for attention, they're doing it for research."

Javadd stepped closer to Stiles. "Sirs. Ma'am," he said. "Nothing we record or witness tonight will go anywhere other than research papers. We can leave out personal details and keep any recordings for our own personal use." The lights flickered again before going out.

Ed shouted from the dining room and they all hurried back to find him pointing at one of the monitors, the one for the camera in Derek's parents' bedroom where two figures floated above the hole in the floor, right were their bed had been the night of the fire. The images were unclear but definitely human and in an instant they disappeared, dropping through the hole. Turning their heads towards the library monitor they saw a glow but no figures. The glow centered around the pile of rubble, bouncing back and forth between the door and the pile, hitting the same spot each time.

Suddenly, the lights flicked back on and all of the equipment turned off and on again. Stiles would have laughed at the excitement on the PIE members' faces if it weren't for the tears on Derek's cheeks. He reached out and brushed one away, drawing Derek's attention back to him. He grabbed Stiles' wrist and pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face in his neck and Stiles pretended not to feel the trembling or the wetness spreading across his skin.

Javadd and James gave them a smile as the other members started cleaning up as quietly as possible, issuing apologies if something fell or banged. James had explained while they were setting up that they would leave the cameras up for the rest of the night, the feeds being sent wirelessly to Ed’s computer, and pick them up in the morning. Lydia left with a wave and a called out farewell and expression of gratitude to the Hales. He and Derek stayed where they were until long after everyone had gathered the equipment and left, Stiles' back aching from standing for so long with his arms raised to wrap around Derek’s neck. 

It was well after midnight when Derek pulled away, jaw clenched and damp eyes steely with determination. "There's something in the library. They were trying to show us," Derek said, moving before Stiles' brain caught up with the words.

"Wait! You really think so? What could be there that the fire investigators and police missed?" Stiles asked, catching up with him as he pulled open the doors to the library and stepped inside. 

They looked up at the hole and then down to the pile of rubble. Stiles could identify the books and other items that Derek had thrown down there the other night but beyond that he wasn't even sure where to start looking. "Hold on! There's a photo upstairs on the wall that was taken of this room after the fire. If we can remove all the new stuff, maybe we can figure out where the orb was hitting," Stiles said, running for the stairs and leaving Derek behind. 

As he reached the attic, a chill pushed through him, knocking him back a few steps. Shaking it off, he made his way past it and noticed that a lot of the photos from the wall had been torn down and thrown to the floor. Thankfully the one that he wanted was still where he'd left it.

When he pulled it off the wall, he looked around the room again, trying to figure out why the ghosts would destroy what was left of the investigation wall. "Are you trying to tell us something?" he asked aloud but there was no answer, so he made his way to the stairs, stopping when he heard a creak behind him. Looking over his shoulder he thought he saw a shadow, but that wasn't the kind of game the ghosts usually played so he chalked it up to his imagination and went back to join Derek in the library.

He heard Derek before he saw him, stopping for fear of interrupting when he heard, “I’m sorry, mom. Dad, I’m sorry.” The lights outside the library glowed brighter for a moment before fading and Stiles felt the chill at his back, urging him forward. He entered the library to see Derek clutching a book to his chest and staring around the room with wide, still wet, eyes.

“I’ve got the photo,” Stiles said, at a loss for how to offer any more comfort than he already had. He handed it to Derek, who took it and looked between it and the pile in the room. 

“Okay, so it looks like most of the books are definitely from my tantrum,” he said, giving Stiles a sheepish grin. “Let’s move those first. We can pile them up outside the doorway so they aren’t in our way.”

Stiles nodded and followed his lead, treating the books gently as they were all old and clearly expensive. They lined the books up along the wall, stacking them about waist high before moving to another pile. It took some time, the hour grew late as they moved on from the books to the chunks of wood he’d thrown next. The night sky outside began to grow lighter. Derek’s exhaustion was clear in the droop of his shoulders, but Stiles didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop, so he swallowed a yawn and kept moving to keep himself awake.

The sun was starting to shine through the boards over the windows, sending laser beams of light into his eyes. “Stop!” Stiles shouted as Derek reached blindly towards the pile. "If we find evidence, we should wear gloves," he said. "Where the fuck are we going to get gloves this early in the morning?"

"The first aid kit," Derek said. "In the tool chest in the garage. Just give me a minute."

Stiles followed Derek to the kitchen door, not relishing the thought of being alone in the house for even a few minutes on his own after what had happened up in the attic. He didn't know why he couldn't let it go, why a feeling of dread settled into his stomach like a dead weight. He stayed in the doorway as Derek disappeared into the garage, watching and waiting until he reappeared within record time, striding across the yard with a small box in his hands. Once he was in the kitchen, he handed the box to Stiles who opened it and dug out two pairs of nitrile gloves out, glad there were more in case some ripped on the debris. 

He turned to hand a pair to Derek and found him going through the kitchen drawers. "What are you looking for?"

"Chopsticks," he responded. "I thought we could use them to move things so we touch even less. I also grabbed a couple of new paintbrushes from the garage to brush away dust and and everything." He pointed to his back pocket.

"Are you sure one of your majors wasn't archaeology?" Stiles questioned, opening the junk drawer next to the refrigerator and pulling out four sets of chopsticks still in their paper sleeves.

"For a semester," he said. "I accompanied my parents on an archaeological dig when I was a kid and loved it, but when I started studying it, it was less exciting."

"How many times did you change majors?"

"We don't discuss that," Derek said, face serious before breaking into a smile. "More like I dropped a third major."

Stiles shook his head, laughing as they approached the room again, studying the picture when they got there. Looking around the room, Stiles saw the camera was mounted just above the door, so if his memory served him correctly, the orb was bouncing somewhere near the middle of the pile. After some discussion, they decided to start on the edge closest to the windows and work their way back towards the door. Moving carefully around the pile, Stiles bragged loudly about only slipping once on a loose piece of wood. 

Working carefully, they managed to remove a lot of the wood into a pile under the window. Derek had to stop at one point when he pulled out a broken and charred picture frame, the photo burned out except for the very center where Mickey Mouse stood, his arms out stretched. "We went to Disneyland almost every year and every year Cora was afraid of the characters in costumes. Laura would throw a fit saying she wanted a picture with Mickey and we would try every year." He laughed but the sound was wet. 

"Finally, when Cora was around eight years old, the last time we went before the..." He trailed off but Stiles just nodded and squeezed his arm, not forcing him to continue but hoping he would. "That last year, my dad bribed Cora with a hundred bucks and we finally got the photo." Running his fingers over the frame, Derek touched to the right of Mickey, "Laura stood right there grinning like an idiot." He moved his finger to the left of Mickey. "I was here, frowning because I was hungry and my parents made us do this first." Finally he tapped the far left of the corner. "And Cora was as far out of the picture as she could be and still be in the photo. As soon as the flash went off, she was gone racing out of the room, but they got the picture and Cora got her money."

"That's a great memory," Stiles whispered. "I'm sorry the picture is lost."

"There was another copy," Derek said, closing his eyes. "I bet it's in the box of pictures that Laura took with her when she moved. I'll...I'll have to see if I can get it." Stiles squeezed his shoulder as Derek moved the frame to the side, treating it with the same care they had the books. 

Derek knelt and moved closer to the pile, paintbrush in hand and chopsticks clenched between his teeth as two things happened. The lights began flickering on and off in a pattern and Stiles' phone rang. "Hello?" he answered, narrowing his eyes at the lights, trying to identify the pattern, something familiar about it.

"Stiles!" James shouted through the phone and Stiles held it away from his ear. The lights blinked in pattern again and Stiles identified it finally as morse code. Three short. Three long. Three short. Pause. Begin again. S-O-S. His eyes widened as James' voice broke through again. "You have to get out of the house!"

"Sorry, what?" Stiles said, watching as Derek carefully moved a pile of debris to reveal a gold tube.

"Get out of the house!"

"What? Why?" Stiles moved and squatted down to look at the tube as Derek poked gently at it with one of the chopsticks.

"It looks like the one in the basement," Derek observed and Stiles remembered seeing another - in the coffee shop in the hands of the strange woman.

"There's someone in the house! We can see her on the feeds! Lydia says she's dangerous! She was in the attic and then went downstairs, but now we can't...she's in the foyer!"

"What?" Stiles repeated.

"Put the phone down, Mr. Stilinski," a new voice said and Stiles almost said 'what' again, but he turned to see the woman from the coffee shop with a gun pointed at him.

"Hello, Derek," she purred as Derek stood up, putting himself between her and Stiles.

"Kate," Derek greeted and the woman smirked.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Stiles watched the gun from over Derek's shoulder, trying to pull his arm so that he was behind him instead of in front of him. He watched Kate's eyes jump around the room from Derek's face to Stiles to the ceiling and down to the pile of rubble. A smile stretched across her face. "It's too bad I didn't get to stay and watch the fire," she murmured and Derek stiffened under Stiles' hand. "You know, I didn't really plan on killing them."

"Fuck you," Derek said and she leveled the gun with his face. 

"Such ugly language from such a pretty mouth," she tsked at him. "I really didn't come here with the thought of killing them. My plan was much more poetic."

Stiles snorted and she lifted the gun so that it aimed over Derek's shoulder and he pushed Stiles further behind him. "Aw, someone's trying to be a hero just like his father tried and look how that turned out." She glanced at the pile, kicking at it and Stiles tried to take advantage of her distraction to dial his phone, but her head jerked up when he shifted and he dropped the phone, relieved to see James' name still on the screen as it hit the ground and went black, he hoped that it didn't disconnect.

She moved her way around the pile, Derek and Stiles mirroring her actions trying to keep it between them. "Stop moving!" she shouted and they froze. "I really didn't mean to kill them," she told Derek, her voice pleading and Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes as he thought back to the words from Gerard's letter to the Sheriff, the detailed description of Kate's face as she confessed to avenging her father by killing the Hales.

She lowered the gun, but kept her grip on it as she kicked at the pile of debris again, the gold tube rolling free and she laughed, snatching it up. "I wondered where this had gone," she said, smiling up at them. "I lost it the night of the fire, but I never thought it would be here. She pulled the top off, twisting the bottom and frowning when nothing happened. "I guess the lipstick melted." She pouted and put it in her pocket and Stiles panicked at the thought of their only hard evidence that she'd been in the house that night disappeared. "I got another one right after, but I think the Sheriff stole it." She said something unkind about him under her breath before shaking her head and looking up at them again.

"I keep getting distracted. I never had this problem as a kid, I was so good at school and then your parents had me yanked out of my classes here, away from my father, my friends and stuck me in that horrible high school in Beacon Hills where the teachers and counselors all tried to talk me in circles. It was unfair and all your parents' fault that I didn't finish high school." 

Stiles really did roll is eyes then, pressing his forehead to Derek's back and wrapping his fingers around his belt loops as he tried to calm his breathing which was edging towards too fast. His fingers brushed something hard and glancing down he saw the outline of Derek's phone in his back pocket. Crossing the fingers of one hand, he used the other to pull the phone out enough to see the screen. 

Derek must have realized what he was doing because he started talking. "None of this convinces me that you didn't mean to kill my parents," he said. "It all just sounds like a set up for revenge."

She laughed. "Oh, I was after revenge. I was going to ruin their lives and their children's lives the same way they did mine." She tilted her head. "I guess I still succeeded even if it wasn't how I had planned." She lifted the gun, using the barrel to scratch at her temple before waving it toward the ceiling. "I went to the party and then followed them home. Your mother was always so trusting and let me in when I claimed my car had broken down. I knew you and your sisters weren't home because you'd told me you were going to be gone. It was a pity really that we couldn't have had a little bit of fun first."

"I would've lied. Anything  _ not _ to go out with you," Derek said, his voice steady as Stiles managed to activate the emergency keypad on the phone and dial 9-1-1, the call connected as he shoved the phone back in his pocket, the operators voice muffled as Stiles tapped Derek's back three times. 

She shook her head. "No. You wanted me. I know you did. I saw the way you looked at me when I flirted with you."

"I looked at you with disgust! You were a grown woman flirting with a barely legal teenager," he snapped and she aimed the gun at him. "And now you're waving a gun in my face telling me that you killed my parents!" Stiles sincerely hoped that the dispatcher was getting all of this.

"I didn't mean to!" she shouted and Derek tensed so much that Stiles was afraid he was going to leap at her. "I only wanted to make your father beat your mother so I could have him arrested and all of you taken away, but he tried to be a hero and grabbed the gun." She waved the gun around. "We struggled, it went off and your mother fell to the ground. Your father went into a full on rage and I thought he was going to kill me so I defended myself."

"Self-defense, my ass!" Stiles muttered. 

"Shut up, kid. I may not have meant to kill Derek's parents, but let me tell you, it got easier after that," she growled.

Derek reached back and grabbed Stiles' hand, squeezing firmly. "What do you mean?"

"That stupid sheriff," she shouted. "He just wouldn't let it go! He had no evidence but he kept looking into the case. I never would've known if it weren't for that cute little Deputy Duke, or I guess I should call him Sheriff Duke now." She shrugged. "He was so much fun to play with and kept me informed of anything to do with the case. Imagine my surprise when he called me a few months ago to say he'd been approached by that dumbass Finstock with actual evidence that could've led to my arrest."

"You killed him?" Derek asked, his voice holding more shock than Stiles thought the revelation deserved, he'd started assuming she was responsible after he'd mentioned the fire that burned down his house. "He died of a heart attack!"

She shrugged. "Well, when he drinks enough aconite laced coffee, a heart attack is inevitable."

"He never would've taken a coffee from you," Derek said.

"No, but he was not very good about locking his door, and the aconite mixed so well with ground coffee. You know, people always warn about the dangers of caffeine." She shrugged. "Then, after they’d removed him from the house, while everyone he knew was at his funeral, I burnt down the house to destroy the evidence he'd gathered, but apparently it had been immediately removed from the house and sent to you." She looked thoughtful. "It took me awhile to find you, but when I did I realized you hadn't even started looking at the files so I just sat back and waited."

Stiles squinted as something caught his eye between the slats on the windows behind Kate. He tried to keep the smile off his face as he recognized the red and blue of police lights passing the house, thankful they weren't flashing and there were no sirens. "How did you know he didn't look?"

"I checked. Every couple of days I snuck into the house while they were working upstairs and looked in the basement," she responded with a laugh. "But then  _ you _ moved in and everything went to hell." She tilted her head at Derek. "I really hoped you would never look at the boxes. Killing you is the last thing I want to do."

"Then don't," Derek suggested and she laughed. 

"I don't have a choice. You know too much."

"Because you told us!" Stiles said, moving to stand next to Derek, bravery coursing through him knowing the police were just outside until he realized they still had to get into the house. 

"Call it a bad case of hubris." She raised the gun again. "Enough talking." She pulled the hammer back on the pistol.

Derek shoved Stiles behind him again as the lights went out, leaving the room dark except for the sunlight coming in through the spaces between the boards. Kate looked around. "Who the hell did that?"

A glow started behind Derek and Stiles, they could see the reflection in the dirty mirror, but couldn't make out anything distinct. The look on Kate's face said that she clearly saw something, all the color drained and her lower lip trembled as she let out a strangled shout. "No. No. You're dead!" she said, swinging the gun to aim over their shoulders and squeezing the trigger as Derek threw himself and Stiles to the ground.

As soon as the shot rang out, the front door to the house burst open, all the lights flared on in the entire house and the glow flew over Stiles and Derek and slammed into Kate sending her to the ground, the gun skittering away across the floor as she screamed. Cops poured into the room, a couple of them grabbing Stiles and Derek and dragging them out of the room asking after their well-being. Several more crossed the room and rolled Kate onto her stomach, cuffing her hands behind her back and reading her rights.

Stiles and Derek sat on the bottom step, a couple of paramedics looking them over when Kate was led out of the house, screaming about ghosts and they exchanged a look and a slight smirk. Finstock was badass because that move totally had his name written all over it. An officer brought Stiles his phone, smiling as he handed it over. "Your friend is worried about you."

Confused, he put the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Thank god you're alright!" James shouted. "That was intense. We have everything on tape. Ed is transferring it to a thumb drive and taking it to the station. I'll let you go, but call me." Stiles agreed and hung up as a shout came from the doorway of the house.

"What the fuck did I miss?" Scott asked as he stood there, backpack over his arm and looking like he was in desperate need of a shower.

Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles' shoulder and started laughing which set Stiles off until they were wrapped around each other and everyone was looking like they were one step away from calling the men in white coats. "Bro, have we got a story for you."


	13. Epilogue

The months following the arrest were crazy with court cases and the end of the school year. Stiles and Derek barely saw each other outside the courthouse. Derek would work on the house while Stiles was in class and be on his way out by the time he returned. He would feel like Derek was avoiding him if he didn't keep texting him, keeping him updated on the renovations and sending photos of not only the rooms but other random things from throughout his days.

The ghosts were still active, but not nearly as much and Lydia came to visit saying that at least one of the presences was gone. They were sure it was Finstock since his business was finished; Kate was caught. Stiles almost missed the noises from the basement, but there was still the comfort of the flashing lights and his keys always ended up just where he needed them. One night he'd fallen asleep on the couch in the newly renovated library and woken up with a blanket from his bedroom draped over him. He would attribute it to Scott, but his housemate spent more time than not at his girlfriend's leaving Stiles alone in the house.

It was a month before school got out for the summer and two weeks after Kate had been sentenced to life in a psychiatric hospital that Stiles came home to find Derek sitting on the porch stairs, a smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He stood as Stiles climbed out his Jeep and waited, handing the flowers over when Stiles was close enough. "It's done," he said.

Stiles smelled the flowers before Derek's words sunk in and he jerked his head up to look at him. "What? Really?" Derek nodded and reached for Stiles' hand, pulling him inside and up the stairs.

Derek had finished the rest of the house before tackling his parents' bedroom. He'd actually hired contractors to fix the floor about a month after the incident, but had left everything else until recently. Stiles hadn't even been sure he'd started working on it until he'd left his room one morning and saw a dusty footprint in front of the door. He'd fought his own curiosity and walked away from the door. He let Derek lead him to the bedroom, waiting until he opened the door.

Standing back, he allowed Stiles to enter first, moving behind him. The room was painted a soft brown with wall to ceiling bookshelves covering two walls opposite each other. The window let in a lot of light, washing over the chocolate duvet on the bed pushed up against the window. Nightstands holding modern looking lights sat on each side of the bed, one holding a picture frame with the Mickey picture which Stiles immediately crossed to and picked up, touching Derek's face gently. 

When he turned back to Derek, he let out a soft gasp. Hanging on the wall next to the doorway where Derek stood was a large oil painting of Derek's parents. He recognized the clothing and the pose from the photo Kate had taken at the party. The artist had added in Derek, Laura, and Cora from around the same time, all of them smiling. "Derek..." 

"Cora painted it. She surprised me with it yesterday," he explained.

"Don't you want it in your loft, though?" Stiles heart sunk at the thought he'd never see Derek now that the work on the house was done.

Derek rubbed at the back of his neck, looking up at Stiles through his lashes. "Actually, I'm moving in here."

Stiles' heart sank. They hadn't talked about it, but he'd hoped he could keep renting from Derek the next school year. Scott was moving in with Kira and he didn't want to have to find another place to live. "Oh."

"You don't sound too happy to have me as a roommate," Derek responded, dropping his hand and taking a few steps closer. "I thought we got along well enough to share the house."

Stiles grin hurt it was so wide. "You're still going to rent me a room?"

"Of course. I asked Scott if he and Kira wanted to move in, but her lease isn't up for another year," Derek explained. "Boyd and Erica will take his room. You can have yours and my friend Isaac is taking the one at the end of the hall."

"And you want me here?" Stiles asked, just to be sure.

"Where else would I want you?" he asked, eyebrows pulled together in the center of his forehead.

"Anywhere but around you, lately."

Derek's head dropped to his chest and Stiles moved closer to take his hand, squeezing until he looked up. "I'm sorry. I wanted to get the house done in time to convince you to stay for the summer and my mind has been so..."

"I get it," Stiles said, smiling. "You want me to stay for the summer?" Derek nodded. "I need to find a job."

"Erica said you can work at the diner," he suggested. "And I could use some help on another property. Plus, I was hoping we could take a road trip for a couple of weeks. Go to Disneyland?"

"Take a picture with Mickey?" Stiles teased, surprised when Derek's ears turned pink.

"As long as we can take a picture with The Mad Hatter as well."

"Deal. I was also hoping that, if you're not too busy, we could go out tonight?" He looked down at his feet as he scuffed one against the floor, looking too much like Stiles in high school attempting to ask his first girlfriend to Homecoming.

"Like a date?" Stiles asked, thinking back to the meal at the coffee shop and movie afterwards back during the whole mess, the last time they'd really spent any time together.

Derek nodded. "An official date this time." Stiles grinned, pressing a quick kiss to Derek’s lips, the first since that night in the loft months before, and Derek took it as the yes that was intended. 

They had dinner at a fancy French restaurant, Stiles unsure what to order, the menu overwhelming. He'd been relieved when Derek ordered for him, roast duck with fresh vegetables and delicious sauce. He's still not sure what he ate, but he'd loved it. Although he'd made Derek promise the next time they went out they would get pizza at Round Table Pizza. The smile he'd gotten when he said 'next time' made the entire night even better. 

After dinner they went to see a play at the Aurora Theatre Company and Derek had held his hand through the entire performance, his thumb rubbing circles distracting him from the play but he couldn't even complain. As they drove back to the house, Derek held his hand and they talked about the summer and their road trip, already making plans for other stops on the way to Disneyland and afterwards. As they pulled up in front of the house, Stiles looked over to see Derek getting out of the car.

He opened Stiles' door and offered his hand to help him out. They walked to the door, smiling shyly at each other and Stiles was thrown back to dates in high school where he would stand around awkwardly with his date wondering if he should kiss them or not. As they reached the porch, turning to face each other, he realized that was exactly what was going on between them. He knew that he wanted to kiss Derek, had wanted to kiss him pretty much since the Smurf Incident and the desire had just increased after that night in the loft, but he didn’t know if Derek was ready to go there again yet. 

"I had a really great time," he said, giggling when Derek's cheeks pinked.

"Me, too." He stepped forward and leaned to press a kiss to Stiles' cheek before stepping back.

"Oh, fuck that," Stiles said, reaching out and grabbing Derek by the front of the shirt. "Stop me if you don't want to," he warned before yanking him closer and pressing their lips together. It took a second for Derek to respond and Stiles was sure he'd messed up, but then Derek's arms wrapped around him and pulled him even closer, Stiles' hands going up around Derek's neck as their lips parted to deepen the kiss.

Stiles lost track of how long the kiss lasted but they jumped apart when the porch light flashed on and he was again reminded of high school dates. He was about to share the thought when Derek gasped. Following his gaze, Stiles let out his own gasp. Behind the glass of the front door, clearer than they ever had been, stood the glowing images of Derek's parents, soft smiles on their faces. 

"Hi," Stiles breathed out as Derek raised a hand, pressing it to the glass. Mr. Hale mirrored the movement and Stiles found himself doing the same with Mrs. Hale, the four of them smiling at each other before the spirits faded from sight. A strong sense of loss washed through Stiles and when he saw the tears on Derek's face he knew he felt it too; they were really gone from the house now. They were at peace finally. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to break the somber mood when Derek beat him to it.

"I'd say you got parental approval," he joked before unlocking the door and pulling Stiles inside.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm josjournal over on tumblr. Come say 'Hi!'


End file.
